


The Spaces Between

by onecent



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Space, Brainwashing, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Kidnapped by Pirates, M/M, Main Characters Tagged, Main Ship Tagged, Minor Canonical Character(s), Realistic Technology Malfunctions, Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-04-13 22:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14122065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onecent/pseuds/onecent
Summary: Clint and Bucky are part of a rescue team chasing after the trail of their missing friends. It seems straightforward enough. Find the ship, get the people, come home, be heroes. But what can a team of two sharpshooters, a fast-talking engineer, a telekinetic medic, and a former pararescue pilot manage that a team of all-stars couldn't?Featuring snarking, bonding, friendship, kidnapping, betrayal, true love, and maybe even a few miracles.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuckyeahdeafandasexual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahdeafandasexual/gifts).



> First, I would like to thank the wonderful fuckyeahdeafandasexual ([tumblr](https://fuckyeahdeafandasexual.tumblr.com/), [AO3](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahdeafandasexual/pseuds/fuckyeahdeafandasexual)) for prompting me to finally get this out of my "ideas" pile and onto the page. Additional thanks for helping me to set deadlines and actually get this posted.
> 
> Another huge thanks goes to my artist, maesonc, for helping to make my work really come to life. You can find more of her art by following on [instagram!](https://www.instagram.com/maeson_c/)
> 
> Thank you both also for continuing to cheerlead and inspiring me to keep going.
> 
> I do currently have a buffer, and I have a very good idea of the story arc and what each chapter will contain. My intention is to post once a week until the story is finished. There are 12 chapters. 
> 
> In the spirit of Easter, anyone who identifies one of my Easter eggs that I've buried in the story is entitled to some chocolate. You will have to buy it yourself, but you can know that you truly earned it.

Clint sighed and threw his head back to put his face under the drizzle of lukewarm water coming out of the showerhead. He was insanely grateful for the cleaning pads on the ships--no one wanted to be in an enclosed container with a bunch of people who hadn’t gotten clean in a month--but it was always nice to get back to port and really hose down.

He only took a moment to enjoy the water before quickly scrubbing all over, once to get clean and a second time to really get out all the dirt. He’d just lathered up his hair again when there was a loud clunking sound in the pipes.

“No, no, no, no!” he cried, sticking his head back in the spray just as the water shut off. “Oh, come on!” He turned away with a sigh to reach for his towel. Just on the other side of his shower curtain, though, was a patiently waiting silhouette. Clint screamed and jumped back, slipping and falling straight onto the scum-covered floor.

A fist extended into the shower and opened slowly to reveal Clint’s hearing aids.

“Down here, dummy,” Clint said, and the hand lowered. He swiped the aids out of the cold hand and it retreated while he put in and turned on the small devices.

“Problem with the shower?” a dry voice asked.

Clint rolled his eyes at the familiar tone. “What the hell are you doing here, Coulson?”

“I need your help.” Through the translucent shower curtain, Clint could see the android standing perfectly still. He sighed again. Futzing androids. Someone should have programmed them with more of a personality. And to think Coulson was one of the better ones. “We have a situation.”

“Tough shit.” Clint finally worked out which way his legs were heading and got his feet under him. “Last time you wanted my help, I almost got shot. And before that I got turned into a mindless drone and nearly killed everyone on base.” He reached up to grab the handgrip halfway up the wall and stand again. “And besides, didn’t your organization lose funding and shut down when it turned out you were harboring a vast secret organization that was planning to assassinate half the system?”

“Romanoff’s been compromised.”

“Shit,” Clint muttered under his breath. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” He punched the shower wall. “All right. Let me get some pants on.” He reached a hand out to fumble for a towel.

Coulson pressed the worn terrycloth into Clint’s hand. “This is not a place to speak freely. There are other lifeforms around that we need to be wary of.”

“Other…? Are you talking about the dog?” Having wrapped the towel securely around his waist, at least as best as he could, Clint pulled back the curtain and stepped out into the tiny bathroom.

“I am speaking more to the fact that this location is insecure. These walls are thin.” Coulson glared at the selfsame walls. “I’ll need you to come in to headquarters.”

“Headquarters? Didn’t SHIELD get shut down once the whole Hydra thing happened?”

“We have gone underground,” Coulson admitted, “but not shut down completely. Meet me at this location at oh-eight hundred hours tomorrow. We’ll debrief you there and you can meet your new team.” His left arm extended and the hand flipped up at the wrist to reveal the inner workings of the arm, including what seemed to be a miniature printer that was spitting out a few lines of text. Coulson tore off the sheet and handed it to Clint before turning to walk away.

“Ooh, fancy new arm upgrade.” Clint inspected the address for a moment, then his head jerked up. “Wait, team?”

 

* * *

 

The new SHIELD headquarters, since that was apparently still a thing, were halfway across the port from Clint’s lodgings. Naturally, the subway routes all seemed to be under construction. When he finally made it to the address Coulson had given him, the secretary at the front waved him on before he could even fumble his badge out of his pocket.

He hit the elevator button until the doors opened and starting jabbing the button for his floor as soon as he stepped inside. He checked his watch. 0811. The elevator seemed to crawl up, and he darted out the half-open doors and ran-walked to the end of the long hallway. He’d managed to get out his badge and swiped it at the locked door third from the end.

“--any time...and here he is now,” Coulson said. A quick smile darted across his face as he turned to Clint but was gone just as fast.

A few groans echoed across the room, and someone said “should’ve known it was gonna be this clown.” Probably Barnes, who was leaning back in the corner chair with his feet kicked up. Though Wilson, sprawled out next to him, was also a solid contender.

Clint glanced around the room to see who else was with them. Coulson stood at the head of the oval table, framed by two women. Wanda was the one he recognized from his last big mission before SHIELD disbanded. He’d convinced her and her brother to switch sides and fight against their former employer, a splinter sect of Hydra. The other woman was familiar, but it took Clint a moment to place her.

“...Miss Van Dyne?” he asked slowly, a little in awe.

The brunette looked up from her comm set and grinned widely at him. “Just Jan is fine. Welcome to the party.”

Clint nodded and sat slowly in the seat across from Barnes and next to Wanda. She gave him a small smile and he nodded in return before a red bouncy ball hit him in the temple.

He whipped his head around just in time to see Barnes catch the ball again and smirk at Clint. He bounced the ball back across the table, but Clint snatched the ball before it hit him in the nose and tucked it into his own pocket. Barnes huffed a little before pulling out a second bouncy ball, this one blue. This one he kept to bouncing off the table instead of aiming for Clint’s face, though the not-quite-regular thumps on the table were almost just as annoying.

“Now that we’re all here,” Coulson began, tapping the stack of already perfectly-aligned papers on the table in front of him, “we can discuss your mission. As some of you know, a few months back we determined the location of a highly valuable item and dispatched a team of some of our best people to secure it.”

Wilson was nodding and Barnes had apparently decided to strangle his bouncy ball in his cybernetic left hand. Wanda had gone white as a sheet. Clint reached out gently to lay a hand over hers on the table, and she immediately clung to it.

“This mission was a semi-covert operation, with limited contact between the ship and our headquarters. We were still receiving regular communications from them until two days ago, when we received the following message.”

Part of the table lit up as a holoscreen and displayed the message in a sickly green hue. Clint’s eyes read faster than his brain processed, and he had to go back and reread the message again. 

> With everyone about ridiculously early, Cap ordered Mr. Pietro revise our mission imperative. Sadly, everyone declined. Safe harbor is perhaps based entirely in not giving foolish orders. Long live old wisdom, elderly daft captain, and perhaps try utilizing resources effectively. Less is knowing every little yearning.

Then he read it again. And...he was pretty sure it still didn’t make sense. Clint snuck a glance at his companions. Wanda and Wilson looked thoughtful, Barnes looked pissed, and Jan just shook her head in despair.

“This is some of the worst work I’ve seen from Stark,” Jan sighed. “Did he write this literally in the middle of being kidnapped?”

Clint frowned and looked at the message again. It had a certain Stark air to it, sure, but usually the guy made at least some sense if you looked past the big words.

“In fairness, this was coded several layers deep in binary and other precautions, so it was not perhaps quite so obvious if initially received by enemy parties.” Coulson wiped his hand across the board and the first letter of every word lifted up while the rest of the word faded, leaving the message:

> WE ARE COMPROMISED SHIP BEING FOLLOWED CAPTURE LIKELY

Clint wasn’t sure to be more offended by the incredibly stupid message used to convey the cry for help or by the fact that he hadn’t caught the code earlier. Then he decided to skip all that and get to worrying about the crew.

“So, Stark, Romanoff...looks like Rogers and Pietro. Who else was on board?” he asked.

“The only others were Scott Lang and Carol Danvers. It was a small mission designed primarily for locating and retrieving the object.”

“What the hell was Lang doing there?” Wilson asked. “Why get a second thief if they’ve already got Romanoff?”

“It was determined having two people more skilled at breaking and entering would be beneficial for this mission, since the actual retrieval would likely require additional assistance.”

“Then why not…” Wilson trailed off, and Clint purposely looked away from the gaze he knew would be on him. The silence after the almost question seemed deafening.

Barnes broke the silence. “Probably wanted to upgrade,” he said, and Clint didn’t have to look to know he had that horrible smirk on his face again. He clenched his fist in his lap and refused to look over at the other sniper, who had started bouncing his ball again, this time off the walls.

“Do we know who was following them?” Wanda asked. “Or who may have captured the ship?”

“We have some suspicions.” Coulson tapped the table again and the display changed to a row of mug shots. “There was a band of pirates in the area who may have been after the same item and were looking to take out the competition. They are not very well known. The leader calls himself Star Lord, but they’ve got some heavy hitters in the crew that could pose a serious threat to a smaller team.”

“Kidnapped by pirates?” Barnes sneered. “Doesn’t seem like them.” Clint privately agreed. Rogers, Stark, Romanoff, _and_ Danvers taken? By a small band of pirates? It certainly seemed...far-fetched.

Coulson shrugged. “There were many people who could be searching for this item. We have considered the possibility of a rival organization such as Hydra or even someone like Loki.”

Clint attempted to suppress a full-body shudder, but based on the way Wanda’s hand squeezed his own for a moment he didn’t think he was very successful. If Loki was involved somehow….

“So why us?” he asked, surprising himself with a voice that didn’t shake. “I mean, sounds like you already had a pretty stellar team that got overwhelmed. Why send in an even smaller group to play rescue instead of getting a bigger force out there? And why...this group?”

“As you will recall, Agent Barton, this mission was covert.” The android didn’t sniff in disdain, but that was probably mostly because it couldn’t breathe and less because the sentiment wasn’t implied. “Going in guns blazing would completely defeat the purpose of the original mission. We aren’t willing to compromise that yet.”

Barnes sat back and muttered something that was probably “Sounds like they’re already compromised,” though Clint didn’t quite hear it with how low under his breath he spoke.

“You five have been selected as you all have valuable skills that would help in mounting a rescue as well as all having ties to some of the original team members.”

Right. Wilson and Barnes were both friends of Rogers, and Clint of course could never abandon Natasha. Wanda would want to rescue her brother. And Jan…

“You’re….dating Stark?” Clint guessed.

Jan snorted with laughter. “No, but nice try. Tony’s a good guy, though. A good friend. But I’m betting I’m actually here because of Scott.”

“You know Lang?” Wilson asked.

“He was working with me and Hank to try out some new inventions. Bit of a pet project, you could say.”

“There’s a multitude of reasons for your presence here, the same as is true for many of you.” Coulson’s gaze swept the room. “This is a small community, and no matter what biases there may be between you, we are putting our faith in your ability to come together as a team to complete this mission.” Clint didn’t think he imagined how the gaze lingered on him and Barnes.

Apparently the subtle warning didn’t faze Barnes in the slightest. “How the hell is this group gonna function as a team? I’m lookin’ around and we seem a few eggs short of a decent omelette here.”

Wanda turned slowly to stare at him and spoke for the first time during the meeting. “And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” Her voice was steady, but Clint knew better than to think it was anything like calm.

“Easy, there,” he said gently. “He’s not talkin’ about you.”

“I’m just saying that this doesn’t look like a team to me, just a bunch of stragglers who got thrown together. I mean, do we even have enough people to get a ship out into the black?”

 _This isn’t a team_ , something in Clint’s memory echoed. He shook it off.

“Your positions are as follows.” Coulson pulled five files from his stack of papers and passed them out one by one.

“Janet Van Dyne, codename Wasp: Engineer and Communications Officer.” Janet took her folder and immediately began flipping through it faster than anyone could possibly read it.

“Wanda Maximoff.” Wanda gingerly accepted the folder. “Codename Scarlet Witch: Medic and Languages Expert.” With a mostly-contained sigh and a gentle eye roll, she too started to browse the packet.

“James Barnes, codename Winter Soldier: Security Officer and Infiltration Expert.” Barnes let Coulson drop the folder onto the table in front of him and eyed it warily. He kept his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes on the rest of his teammates.

Clint startled at the folder that dropped in front of him, though he should have seen it coming. “Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye: Pilot and Reconnaisance Expert.” He grimaced and opened the front cover to see what kind of ship he was being expected to pilot. Reconnaisance expert...might as well just announce out loud that he wasn’t on this team because of his weapons experience. He resisted the urge to glare at Barnes.

“And Sam Wilson, codename Falcon: Navigation and Support.” Coulson handed out the last folder and Sam flipped through the pages once before dropping the file onto the table.

“Right, so.” Wilson tapped his fingers on the table. “Ragtag group of misfits, you’re just going to shove us all onto whatever rickety boat you’ve got sitting around and fire us into the black in the hope that we come back with something useful?”

If Coulson hadn’t been an android, Clint was certain he would have smiled. “You have to admit, Mr. Wilson, that it has been a far more effective tactic than even some of our more diligently planned attempts. I have yet to see a band of heroes pull through in the end.”

“This isn’t the time for jokes!” Barnes snapped. “We have a missing crew of people, and this is the best you can put together?!”

“Okay, I have had enough--” Wanda began, rising out of her seat. She held her hand up, fingers poised like claws, and Clint reached up to drag her back down. “Are you defending him?” she hissed at Clint. “He treats you, treats us all like we are worthless, and--”

“I’m not saying that we’re worthless, I’m saying we’re not enough. Sam, come on. You know I’m right.”

Wilson pursed his lips, seeming upset at the very idea of agreeing with Barnes, but then he let out a long sigh. “It would feel better knowing we were going out with a little more support. I mean, Rogers, Romanoff, and Stark go down, and we’re the ones meant to pick up the pieces? Those aren’t odds I like.”

“We won’t be alone,” Jan piped up. “We’ll be in contact with SHIELD, and I’m sure once we get out there and find the team they’ll be able to help out, too.”

Coulson mimed clearing his throat, his speaker making an approximation of the sound. “Actually, due to the nature of this mission, everything is strictly confidential. We are concerned that the last team may have been compromised due to leaked information. Because of that, only myself and Hill will know of your trip. All communications will go directly to one of us.”

Barnes dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Perfect. Just perfect.”

The room fell silent for a moment. Clint dropped his gaze to his hands, resting on top of his open file. “Are they okay?” he asked. No one answered, and he looked up to see everyone looking at him. “As far as we know, are they okay? Are they still alive?”

“We believe so. No news of their deaths has been brought to us, though we likewise have had no word of their capture and ransom.”

Clint nodded. He looked around the room at everyone. “Then I’m going. Even if everyone else stays behind.”

Wanda was quick to put a hand over Clint’s. “You will not be alone.”

“Of course not,” Jan chirped. “I don’t abandon my friends when they’re in need.”

Wilson sighed. “Then I guess we’re a team.” He turned to look over at Barnes, who was glaring murderously down at the table and his file on it. “When do we leave?”

“Your ship is currently being outfitted and will be ready to depart at twenty hundred hours. You have the rest of the day to pack and review your mission brief.” With that, Coulson nodded to the group and left.

Everyone else started to gather their things and stand in his wake. Clint took a few extra moments to shake off the low level sense of dread that was settling over his shoulders while everyone else trickled out. He followed everyone down the hall to where Jan, Barnes, and Wilson had all managed to snag an elevator already. As the doors closed, Barnes caught Clint’s eye and casually flipped him off.

“I do not like that man,” Wanda said, stepping up just enough to be in Clint’s line of vision. “We are all fighting together. I do not understand why he speaks like we are enemies.”

“It’s not you,” Clint said, reaching up to scrub at the back of his neck. “We uh, we haven’t really seen eye to eye since he came in from the cold.” They reached the end of the hall together and he hit the button to call the next elevator.

She turned to frown at him. “Why do you defend him? And what could he do that would make you two….” She seemed to be struggling for the word.

“Enemies?” Clint suggested.

“But petty,” she said. “Like two children fighting in a schoolyard.” Her hands flew up in exasperation.

“Thanks, that really makes me feel better.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I guess it’s a little bit some of the competition. I mean, Tasha and I worked great together for years, right? Then suddenly this guy shows up and he’s like...the perfect combination of the two of us. Great shot, great fighter. Even the weird brainwashing background. I maybe felt a little threatened.”

“But he is the one who is treating you badly. If you are the one feeling threatened…”

“Yeah, well. I may have said some things to him that were...not...great. And he maybe said some things back about being a two-bit carnie using a weapon from a forgotten era and. Well. You can kind of get the picture.”

Wanda hummed. The elevator arrived and they both stepped in. A few moments passed in silence before Wanda said, “Let’s hope you don’t manage to kill each other while we’re stuck together on a tiny ship in the middle of nowhere.”

“It’ll be fine,” Clint said. “We’re both adults. I mean, what could go wrong?”


	2. Chapter 2

Clint’s duffle laid half-full on his bed. He had already dropped off his dog with the usual sitter, Kate, and the fridge had never really gotten full after his last mission, so there wasn't that much else to do to get ready other than pack. He grabbed some clean socks and threw them in the duffle as he reviewed the mission details again and brewed coffee. He paid special attention to the ship details to get a better sense of what he'd be flying and what they all would be living in for the next few months.

The ship was a Warbird 40X, small enough to be handled by a crew of only 3 in a pinch but large enough to hold 20. Not Stark tech, which was always a bit showy and would be harder to go undercover with if necessary, but at least it wasn’t Hammer tech, either. A reliable beast, even if she didn’t have any bells or whistles. He’d have to get a better look in person, and he was definitely glad they had an engineer coming along, but it looked to be a good ship for running out into the black on a semi-covert op. Well, maybe if it had a few more guns…

He was distracted from his musings about ship getaway capabilities by a loud knock at the door, accompanied by the flashing lights in his apartment that meant someone was ringing the doorbell. His coffee had just finished brewing, so he grabbed the pot and went over to the door, dropping the mission file onto the counter behind him.

The door slid back to reveal Barnes, slouching against the frame and acting like he belonged there. He looked down at the coffee pot in Clint’s hands. “Gonna drink it straight from the pot?”

Clint lifted the pot to his lips and took a tiny sip, ignoring the way the glass scalded his lip. “Did you need something?” he asked.

Barnes rolled his eyes, then signed a question. Clint turned his head and tapped at his hearing aid in answer.

“When we left that meeting,” Barnes began, “you took something of mine.”

Clint raised his eyebrows and took another long sip of his coffee. “Pretty sure it’s mine now, since you threw it at me.”

“And you’re sure I can’t have it back?”

Turning away, Clint shrugged and headed for the kitchen. “If you think you can find it.”

The door slid shut behind him, and he just had time to put the coffee pot down before two hands slid around his waist and started fumbling at his pants.

“Not in my pockets,” Clint said. His head lolled onto Bucky’s shoulder and he rolled his hips back.

“Hmm,” Bucky said, nipping at Clint’s ear. “Might have to do a strip search. Just to be thorough.”

“Probably your safest bet.” Clint twisted in Bucky’s grip and slung his own arms around the man’s neck. “Just to be thorough.” He captured Bucky’s mouth with his own and let himself be led back toward the bedroom, where Bucky carefully removed his hearing aids and put them onto the dresser before tackling Clint down onto the bed.

 

* * *

 

Clint moaned and stretched his arm across the bed to search around on his dresser for his hearing aids. He searched as much area as he could without lifting his head off Bucky’s chest before giving in and leaning up to look for the damn things. Two inches away from his fingers. He huffed and swiped them up before laying back down.

“And what exactly are you doing?” Bucky asked, a chuckle in his voice.

“Shh.” Clint massaged the hard pec under his cheek for a moment. “Let me enjoy my pillow for a minute without it talking back.”

At that Bucky actually laughed, a quiet and breathy thing. He ran his fingers through Clint’s hair a couple times. “All right, come on. We have things to do.” He shoved Clint unceremoniously off to the side.

“Uff.” Clint’s face hit the mattress and it felt so nice he figured he could just stay there for a while. At least, until Bucky started pulling away the blankets.

“Up. You’ve still got to pack and go over the mission brief.”

“Alrry loo ah ih.”

“A quick glance isn’t really looking at it. Now come on. Where’s the ball?”

That got Clint to turn his head. He watched Bucky start digging through some of Clint’s clothes and around his drawers. “Why do you need the ball? It’s my turn to have it next.”

Bucky huffed. “You don’t actually think we are going to be having sex in the next few months, right?”

“What?!” Clint sat straight up in bed. “What are you talking about?”

“Clint. Five people on a tiny spacecraft. We aren’t going to have space to breathe, let alone fuck and keep it a secret. I’m already dreading finding out all of Sam’s deep dark secrets. I’m betting on some weird bird thing.”

“But...but…” Clint let his lower lip wobble just a touch and turned on the full puppy eyes. “No…” he pleaded.

“Don’t you dare.” Bucky turned and held up a finger, which might have been more threatening had he not been holding Clint’s underwear in his other hand and wearing nothing but a single sock. “This is a serious rescue mission, and we need to be on our top game. And we will also be with Sam, who you know would just use this to mock us forever and also somehow turn it into another reason that he is actually Steve’s best friend. Just...no.”

Clint huffed and flopped backward onto the bed. “Fine. I guess it’ll be weird with Wanda on board. Like having your kid in the next room.”

“You have a kid?”

“No.” Clint rolled his eyes. “It’s a metaphor. Simile. Thing. _Like_ having your kid in the next room.” He lifted his head just enough to see Bucky pulling on pants and smirking at him. “Ass.”

“What about it.” Bucky turned and bent over to pick up his shirt, giving Clint a fantastic view of the...asset.

“Damn it, Barnes. Don’t do that while we’ve got the moratorium in place.”

Bucky turned back and quirked an eyebrow. “Moratorium?”

“Shut up. I read.” Clint finally stood and started searching for his own clothes.

He was in the middle of pulling his shirt over his head when he heard the tell-tale squeak of his vent being opened. “Wait! Don’t open that!” His shirt popped down just as the small red bouncy ball rolled out of the vent and into Bucky’s waiting hand. “Aww,” he said. “Sex ball, no.”

“It’s for our own good.” Barnes slipped the ball into the pocket of his jacket. “I’ll see you on the ship, Barton.” He saluted once before leaving.

 

* * *

 

“This doesn’t count,” Clint said, rutting against Bucky, who had let himself be pinned to the wall of the ship. “We haven’t taken off yet.”

Bucky shook his head but didn’t argue as Clint sank to his knees. He threaded the fingers of his metal hand into Clint’s hair and moaned quietly.

“Besides.” Clint licked his lips. “It’s their own fault for naming this place the ‘cockpit.’ Way too suggestive.”

“Shut up and hurry before anyone else gets here,” Bucky growled.

Clint grinned. “Happy to oblige.”

 

* * *

 

“This place is a dump,” Wilson said, dropping his bag onto the floor of the loading bay. “I’ve seen better ships in salvage.”

“Hey, don’t talk about her that way!” Clint reached out to pat the wall. “He didn’t mean it, baby.”

Jan popped her head out from a doorway, startling everyone in the room. “She doesn’t look like much, but this ship’s got some serious muscle.” She walked out dressed in a surprisingly fashionable mechanic’s outfit. It had some grease stains, but they looked almost deliberately placed for emphasized effect. She swung a wrench around a few times before sliding it into her tool belt. “I just checked her over from bow to stern, and we’re actually flying with an upgraded model here. The engines are brand new, and extra light. My bet is Stark got his hands on this one and designed her to go undercover, since all the rust on the outside is actually camouflage plating covering up some extra weaponry and shielding.”

“Plus.” Clint thumbed over his shoulder. “The computer set-up is pretty intense. Runs like SHIELD standard, but a lot smoother and faster.”

“It still smells funny.” Wanda wrinkled her nose and looked around the room.

Barnes coughed, hiding a small smile behind his hand. Clint tried to ignore the blush he could feel crawling up the back of his neck. “Probably been in storage a while,” he mumbled.

Wilson grabbed his bag again and started heading toward the bunks. “Anyone figured out where they’re sleeping yet? I call bunk farthest from Barnes.”

“Suits me fine,” Barnes replied.

“I’ve got the one by the engine room,” Jan declared. “Clint should take the room near the cockpit.”

Clint narrowly avoided snorting at the word. His eyes slid over to Barnes, but the man seemed to be purposefully ignoring him. Right. They were in public again. Game face on, Barton. “Sounds good to me.”

“You realize that puts you farthest away from the galley, right?” Barnes said without looking over.

“You act like I don’t keep snacks in my room and on my person at all times.” To demonstrate his point, Clint pulled a granola bar out of his back pocket and started eating.

Wanda squinted at the food. “Is that a Watt-o-Bar?” she asked.

“Yup. I got a bunch of ‘em. You want one?”

Jan came up between them. “You know they stopped making those because of health violations, right? The whole, saying they can help to improve productivity but actually they are actively destroying brain cells and everyone stopped eating them?”

“Really?” Clint took another bite and inspected the remainder of the bar. “It looks fine to me.”

Wanda said something probably disparaging in a language Clint didn’t really understand before shaking her head and following Barnes and Wilson down the hall toward the bunks.

Clint shrugged and finished off the last of the Watt-o-Bar. He turned to find Jan staring at him curiously. “What?” he asked. “I got something on my face?”

She only stared harder before saying, “You are an incredibly strange person.” Then her whole face brightened and she stated, “I think we’re going to be great friends.”

“Cool. Uh. Thanks?”

“Absolutely. Now excuse me while I go make some notes. This is going to be so much fun!” She disappeared back through the door she’d popped out of earlier.

He wandered back to the cockpit where he’d dropped his bag before and went to stow it in his bunk. He’d already done a check of the systems, and with Jan’s check of the ship engines and exterior plus Barnes’ earlier check of supplies and cargo, they were almost ready to leave.

He gave everyone another few minutes to finish getting put away before grabbing the large headset that functioned as the ship’s intercom system. “Testing, testing,” he said, pressing the button on the side of the headset. “This is your Captain speaking. Requesting confirmation of readiness for departure. All systems go?”

The first response came quickly. “This is Van Dyne. Everything is good down in the engine room.”

“Wilson. All doors locked and secured. We are ready to depart,” followed immediately after. “And you’re the pilot, Barton. Not the captain.”

A few seconds later was a more tentative “Maximoff, ready to depart.”

Clint gave it another ten seconds before asking, “Anyone got eyes on Barnes?”

The intercom crackled to life. “--ake a goddamn leak in this place,” Barnes grumbled. “Gimme a minute.” The com clicked off and back on again a moment later. “All right. Barnes, ready to depart.”

“All right then, here we go.” Clint did one last check to make sure the surrounding area was clear and began nosing the ship forward into the departure queue. He switched his headset from ship intercom to the local departure tower frequency. “This is RF-606, requesting permission to depart.”

“RF-606, this is Tower 49. Please provide departure codes.”

Clint tapped at the console in front of him. “Sending...now.” He continued to inch the ship along the line while waiting for a response.

“All right, RF-606, you are confirmed for departure. Your number is 839. Keep an eye up on the screen and we’ll give you a heads up when you’re about ten minutes out.”

The screen above the large bay doors read 802. As Clint watched, it ticked over to 803, and a rickety blue ship navigated into departure zone.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” he muttered. He flicked back over to the ship’s channel. “False alarm, guys. Looks like we’re not on the priority list for departures this time.” He looked up at the long row of ships in front of him. “I’ll let you know when it looks like we’re close.”

The blue ship pulled up into the takeoff lane. Then it backed up. Pulled forward. Backed up. Straightened slightly. Stopped.

Clint’s mind drifted to the fact that they still hadn’t taken off yet, and if they were still on base, then maybe…

The engines on the blue ship fired up and it took off. A crew of robots drove in to clear off any debris and prepare the lane for the next ship. They left and the number ticked over again. 804.

He sighed and settled back in his chair, pulling a book out of the side pocket. He sternly told his gutter-brain to go take a hike as he waited for their ship to depart.

 

* * *

 

What felt like a week later, they were finally out into the black. Clint figured they would fly at the slower pace that someone might expect out of an old Warbird until they were a little further out. Then they could take advantage of those fancy new engines and start really booking it.

Their first stop would be the planet Hunong, a not-entirely-credible hub where they hoped to pick up some more fresh food as well as some extra information on Nat and the team’s disappearance. Even going double-time, it would take three weeks to get there.

Which meant almost a month of being cooped up on a small ship with four other people, one of whom was his...was fuckbuddy the correct term for someone you hated everywhere outside the bedroom? Or at least pretended to hate, since a lot of Clint’s actual hatred for Bucky had sort of faded somewhere around six months ago. Not that he liked the guy or anything, but he didn’t hate his guts anymore.

Sure, Barnes was an annoying sonofabitch, but so was Clint, and basically everyone he’d ever been friends with. And the guy was pretty reliable, too. Not just reliably an asshole but did actually show up whenever plans were made, which was a hell of a lot more than could be said for some of the other people Clint had worked with over the years, his own brother included. Much as Clint hated to admit it, Barnes was also a hell of a shot. Once managed to shoot a target through the nearly-closed doors of an elevator from a building away. When Clint had seen the footage on that, he’d nearly--well. It was a hell of a shot.

So. Great hair and fantastic musculature and incredible skills in the field aside, there wasn’t really that much of a reason why Clint would even care for Bucky. Sure, they had some of the same snarkiness, but who in this line of work didn’t? And there was the weird brainwashing trauma shit in both of their backgrounds, but it was two entirely different experiences, really, and it wasn’t really something they bonded over.

He figured maybe there was a growing mutual respect, but that could all be in his head because just the other week Clint had been about to head out on a mission and Bucky’d given him this terrifying murder glare and said something about Clint still wearing holey underwear so why the hell should he be going on this mission. Which, Clint admitted, that hurt a little, since holey underwear never stopped him from being the best at his job, whether it was back when he was a kid running around with the circus or a fully trained SHIELD operative.

See, it was comments like that that kept Clint guessing where exactly he stood with Barnes. When they were on, they were hot and heavy and everything good, and then suddenly everything would shift and Bucky would become Barnes like a big avalanche falling over them. If the sex weren’t so fantastic, Clint would probably just call off the whole arrangement. Maybe. No, definitely. But since the sex was good, he didn’t have to. It was just about that.

Because that weird feeling in his chest was just--

“Hey, you busy?”

Clint was grateful for his years as a stealth agent that had trained him not to visibly jump at noises. He looked over his shoulder at Sam and waved him forward to sit in the co-pilot’s chair. “No, not really. We’ve cleared most of the traffic, so there’s not much for me to do other than keep an eye on the radar. Need something?”

“I thought we should go over the flight plans and charts.” Sam dropped into the available seat.

“Oh, right. Navigator. Sorry, I guess I should’ve consulted--”

“Nah, it’s cool, man.” Sam leaned back in the chair with a sigh. “I basically figured they just gave me that title so my job sounded more important. I mean, navigation and support? Seriously? Just call me the back-up guy and have done with it.”

“That’s not…” Clint thought back over the mission review. “Oh. Shit. Huh.”

“Anyway, I went over the charts anyway, and it looks like we can shave some time if we swing in closer to Arapolis. It’ll give us enough of a gravitational boost to slingshot us out to Hunong.” Sam pulled a communicator out of his pocket and pulled up the map with his proposed path showing in a dotted line.

Clint reviewed the map. “This looks good,” he said. “I’m mostly trying to avoid a lot of traffic, since it’ll make it easier for us to get around, but I think that this’ll work pretty well for that, too, with a few adjustments.” He looked up at Sam. “I’m happy to switch jobs, if you’d like. We could even make you the Captain.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m pretty used to it most of the time anyway. That was all I ever did with Steve. Just what he did, only slower.” Sam tapped at his communicator and Clint’s chimed. “There, that’s the chart. You can make whatever adjustments you need. Let me know so I can take point if needed.”

“Well, if you want to switch off shifts that might be nice. Give me a bit more of a break.” Clint’s eyes unfocused as he stared at the controls and thought. “You’re good with engineering, too, right?”

“Not like Janet is, that’s for sure,” Sam chuckled. “But I do all right.”

“And you’re good in a fight. Gotta be to follow Steve Punch-It Rogers. Got medical experience?”

“Some.” Sam shrugged. “So, you know. Backup.”

“Well, I can’t do the engineering stuff Jan can, and I only know enough first aid to apply gauze and press down. So you’re ahead of me on all those counts, plus being a good enough pilot to figure all this out, which I didn’t.” Clint waved his communicator. “So it sounds to me like you’re probably the most useful person on the ship.”

Sam snorted. “Nice way to put it.”

“I call it like I see it, and if you think I’ve ever managed to successfully sugar-coat something in my life you should tell Natasha because I think she’ll get a good laugh out of it.” Clint clasped Sam on the shoulder. “Seriously. I’m glad to have you with us. It’s good to know we have someone like you as support.”

Sam tracked Clint’s hand up the arm and to his face. “You learned your pep talks from Steve, didn’t you?”

“Firm grasp, no more than a half-second squeeze on the shoulder,” Clint said with a nod. He dropped his voice and put in as much sincerity and as he could manage. “I believe in you, soldier.”

Sam laughed. “Damn good impression. Not sure I could do as well.”

“Nah. You make a fine Captain. Captain.” Clint grinned and winked. Sam smiled and left and Clint went back to his piloting. He even managed to do it without getting lost in thought about not-hated whatever-you-call-its.


	3. Chapter 3

Day 3:

Clint stumbled into the galley with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his pajama bottoms still trying to slip off. He shuffled over to the coffee maker and smacked at it a few times until the button turned green. Turning to prop himself against the counter, he finally noticed Janet sitting at the table.

She raised an eyebrow. “Rough night?” she asked.

“Uhhhhngh,” Clint managed. Behind him, the coffee maker made a loud gurgling noise, then a clunk, and, just as he turned to look at it, spewed hot grounds everywhere. “Ahh!” he helped and hopped/fell away. “Aww, coffee, nooo…”

“Hold up, I got this.” Jan was suddenly there with a massive wrench and a determined look. “Nobody screws with my coffee.”

Clint blinked at her blearily. “You drink coffee?”

She began ripping apart the machine, setting aside Clint’s mug and the disgusting filter. “Self medication. The caffeine is really good for my ADHD.”

“Oh.” He watched as she got immediately to work, pulling apart each piece and cleaning it with a rag that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “I didn’t know...that.”

“That I have ADHD?” There was just the edge of a threat in there, even though she never looked up from her inspection of the machine. “You have hearing aids.”

“No, that’s not--I didn’t know coffee could do that. I just thought it was a miracle drink for, you know. The regular reasons.”

And that got another big smile out of Jan, who was already reassembling the machine. “Like waking you up after a long night?” She winked. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

Still being without coffee, Clint resorted to blinking at her in the hopes she would make sense. “I get nightmares,” he finally blurted. “It’s not a secret.”

It was Jan’s turn to blink in confusion, though she snapped out of it much quicker. “Well that’s no good. You should get something soft to cuddle to help. Like a stuffed animal. Or a boyfriend.”

“I don’t--I--you--” Clint stutter-stumbled over his words, feeling a little like every person in a romcom ever. In his defense, Jan had only just turned the coffee maker back on. “We’re on a ship. In space. We don’t have any--”

“Boys?” she asked a little too innocently, propping her hand up on her fist.

“Stuffed animals,” he finished.

She smiled again and bounced out of her chair and out the door without a word. He considered following, but coffee. Just as the pot finished brewing, she came back anyway holding something behind her back.

He gave her a despairing look. “Please tell me it’s a stuffed animal and not a condom.”

“It’s a stuffed animal.” She grinned...smirked?

Clint held out his hand warily and flinched as she pressed something into it. True to her statement, it was in fact a stuffed animal. He scowled at it. “How the hell do you even have this?”

“Always be prepared for any emergency,” Jan replied. She grinned. “Do you love it?”

The bear--gods knew how Jan had gotten ahold of it--was a Bucky Bear, a decades-old relic from what many considered to be a simpler time. It was at least a period when old heroes died and stayed dead. A period when Steve Rogers was a hero who starred in favorite comic books and James “Bucky” Barnes was his sidekick, and it was appropriate to create a stuffed animal based off of him.

Then, you know, Steve had been found on an old asteroid and brought back to life, and it turned out Barnes had been captured, brainwashed, and used as an assassin for some 60-odd years. Bucky Bear sales had sort of dropped off since then, and they weren’t nearly as easy to find even now that the man himself had been rehabilitated. Well, as much as you can manage to rehabilitate a brainwashed assassin, anyway. Which, as Clint knew, was enough to have a terrible sense of humor and a frankly terrifying libido.

“Clint?”

His eyes jumped up to Jan, who was still standing there and looking a little nervous now. “Huh?” he asked.

“Hey, if it’s too much you don’t have to keep it. I thought it might be funny. I mean, with how much you enjoy terrorizing him…”

“What? Oh, yeah. Um. I mean, no? I like it. It’s not too much.” He gently ran his fingers up the bear’s furry left arm. “Thanks, Jan.” And he tried to smirk at her but was pretty sure the smile came off too sincere.

“No problem.” She smiled back at him and patted his arm. “Now go enjoy your coffee so you can stop looking so much like a space hobo.”

“Not sure that’ll help much but I appreciate the confidence.” Clint tucked the bear under his arm and gave her a one-armed hug. “I’m going to go hide this in my room now. Gotta wait for the right moment, you know.”

“Of course.” She returned the hug full-force and he relished the human contact before pulling away and heading back to his room.

 

* * *

 

Day 7:

It was Clint’s turn for dinner duty, so he was carefully putting together a lasagna in the galley while Jan and Wanda chatted behind him. They spoke loudly enough that he heard most of the conversation despite his hearing aids, which honestly needed to be looked at since they were going on the fritz every once in a while. Eh, he’d get to it at some point.

“...the trick, then, is knowing how to see and manipulate those fields, which is where I think I’m losing you.” Jan finished swinging around her spoon and took another bite of her ice cream.

“I do not see the fields,” Wanda sighed. “It is not...I don’t know how I know. It is just there. In front of me. Waiting to be moved.”

“Okay, but see.” Jan went for another bite of ice cream. “That’s what I’m talking about. The science is there. It’s always there. Action, reaction, the change of potential to kinetic energy. There’s more to it than that, naturally--”

“Naturally,” Clint muttered under his breath, still kneading the cheeses together.

“--but it’s the process of finding the details, always experimenting to find out more and try to utilize it better.”

“My abilities work. I do not need to know how. I just need to know that they do.”

Jan sighed. “You’re hopeless.”

“No, this is how some things work. Not everything in the universe is something that can be...picked apart.” Clint looked over his shoulder just in time to see Wanda twisting her hands like they were working a Rubik’s cube. He grinned at the picture and went back to layering his noodles and sauce. “Some things work on faith. On the energy that we have inside us. And it is not something we are supposed to understand. Just believe.”

“I just don’t see why we can’t both understand something and believe in it.” In anyone else, the tone would have been considered a whine. Somehow, in Jan, it was righteous indignation. “It’s not like the two have to be mutually exclu---” EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

“Aww, fuck, shit, shit!” Clint scrambled to take out his hearing aid, but since his hands were still covered in sauce and cheese he mostly managed to make a complete mess and completely lose his grip on the technology.

Much nimbler fingers were quickly at the rescue, reaching in to pluck out the offending device. It took another few seconds for Clint’s head to stop spinning, and by the time he looked over to thank his rescuer Jan was already prying his aid apart.

“Aww, hearing aid, no.” Clint pouted and looked at the pieces of the device. “It just needs a recharge,” he said. “You can just put it back. I’ll take care of it.”

Jan looked up at him for a moment, then down to his cheesy fingers. “You do realize that when they do something to put you in pain, that’s not normal operations, right?” She signed along with her words, which Clint appreciated even though he could only barely follow the gestures. (How was she better at that than him? How long had she been practicing?) “And it’s definitely not just a battery problem. But don’t worry, I can have these fixed right up for you.”

“And how long have you been studying hearing aid technology?” Clint asked.

“It’s a machine. I know how machines work.” She went back to cleaning up and sorting the wires on the tiny device. “And this is why,” she said, looking up at Wanda, “it’s good to know why things work.”

Wanda sighed and rolled her eyes. Clint, already recognizing an argument in its upward swing into full-on fight, turned away to wash his hands and put the lasagna in the oven even as Wanda launched into her speech behind him.

“You make it sound easy. Study this, learn that. I am the only person who can do the things I do, and there is nothing I can look at and study. I have had people study me, who put me in a box and pulled me apart to see how the pieces work. I do not need to do that to myself. I am happy to be who I am and to do what I do. Sometimes that is enough.”

“I just think you’re limiting your potential, is all,” Jan started. “You--”

“But it is my potential!” Wanda slapped a hand onto the table. “It is my life, and my decision. I did not ask for this...ability. But it is mine, and I think I am doing it well.”

Into the awkward silence that followed, Clint said, “So uh. How’s that hearing aid coming along?”

“What? Oh, right.” Jan jumped back into action, seemingly eager to have a distraction. She slid the casing together. “Here, try this.”

He took it from her hand and slipped it into place. A robotic voice warned him that the battery was low, but it didn’t try to burst his eardrum again. He smiled at Jan. “Great, thanks. You’re a regular old Janet Fix-It.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Are you trying to give out nicknames again?”

“Could be.”

“Hmm. You should probably stick to the arrow thing.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He set a timer on his comm and headed over to the door of the galley. Once he’d stepped behind Wanda, he turned and signed at Jan to apologize before pointing at Wanda. Jan nodded once and took a deep breath.

Figuring he didn’t have to be around for any more of the feelings talk, he headed back to his bunk to watch some Dog Cops while the lasagna baked.

 

* * *

 

Day 9:

“Okay, so, for the record, it was totally not my fault this time.” Clint walked into the medbay clutching a rag to his forehead.

Wanda, following behind him with a hand on the small of his back, just sighed and directed him to the exam table. She left him to get settled on the uncomfortable plastic while she started pulling out gauze and medical tape.

“I blame the pipe for being at head height. And for having a jagged edge. Poor design plan, really.”

Turning back with an antiseptic spray in her gloved hand, Wanda raised an eyebrow at him. “So it is not because you were crawling beneath the console, or because there was a screw holding it in place?”

“It was head height for someone who needed to crawl beneath the console.”

She shook her head. An exasperated smile played at the corner of her mouth, but she kept it in check. “Hand down.”

Clint pulled the rag away and she sprayed the area. He winced at the burn.

She inspected the wound, her hand braced around the gash. “It is not that deep. But it is bleeding a lot. I think I will stitch it closed. Hold still.”

“Aw, c’mon, it’s not that bad.”

Wanda pulled back to glare at Clint. “Who is the medic here?”

He grumbled but didn’t move as she dabbed at the area to pick up some of the extra blood. She held a piece of gauze in place over the wound with a twisting tendril of red power while she looked for a suture to close everything up.

“Why were you under the console, anyway?”

“Dropped something,” Clint muttered.

“If I am not meant to speak so that you cannot hear, I think that you should do the same.” She turned back with a needle that looked unnecessarily painful, all sharp and wickedly curved. “Why were you under the console?”

“I dropped a peanut, all right?”

She hummed and adjusted the suture in the holder. “And did you find it?”

“Yeah.”

“Before or after you cut yourself?”

“Before.”

“And what did you do with it?”

“I ate it.”

Wanda looked at Clint, eyes wandering from his dusty knees and dirty palms up to the blood he could still feel on his face. She looked a little pained as she asked, “Why?”

“Well, I figured if an expiration date isn’t gonna hold me back then why should a little dirt?”

Her hands shook a little on the suture, so she took a few deep breaths before stepping forward. “I wish…” she began.

“Yeah,” he said. “I get this sort of talk a lot.”

“Just… I wish that you took better care of yourself.” She pinched the skin closed and began to stitch up the wound. Clint felt a new trickle of blood fall down to his ear.

He nearly shrugged, but decided it was better not to disturb her movements now that she was actually that close to his eye with a large needle. “It’s not like I try to get hurt.”

“But you are careless. You do not care about what happens to you, and you do stupid things. So yes. You do try to get hurt.”

Clint didn’t bother to respond to that. He let Wanda finish her work, and once he could feel her tying off the final knot he took a deep breath.

“Thanks, kid. I can go wash everything off.” He stood up off the table and went for the door.

“I am not a kid,” she snapped. “And you are not acting like an adult. You cannot run from your problems until you die.”

His fingers tightened around the door jamb. “I’ll see you later.” He walked away and tried to pretend he wasn’t running from this, too.

 

* * *

 

Day 11:

The lid of the milk jug was red. The lid of the empty milk jug was red. Clint threw the jug in recycling and flipped the small plastic disc in his hand, getting a feel for it. He spotted movement out of the corner of his eye, a strange glinting, and reacted before he could think. The red cap flew directly toward Barnes’ forehead.

While that sort of direct shot was usually something Barnes could catch, this time it hit him dead on and bounced back down to the floor. He looked down at it and back up to Clint, an eyebrow raised. “Really?”

Clint huffed. He was not ashamed to admit that he was getting a little desperate. Well, maybe a little ashamed. More that he was apparently more desperate than Barnes, honestly, since apparently everything had to be a competition these days.

He watched Barnes lean down and pick up the cap with his right hand, the left curled in protectively to his side. He tossed it up and down a few times just as Clint had done before flinging it back with a dismissive gesture.

Offended at the brush-off, Clint sullenly turned back to his cereal. He waited until Barnes had wandered over to the charging station and plugged in his arm before grabbing an apple--granny smith--off the counter and chucking it at the man.

This one Barnes caught without even looking at Clint. He polished the apple on his shirt and began eating while staring out the door.

“All right, that’s it.” Clint grabbed a banana in one hand and a spoon in the other. “You asked for it.”

“What is going on in here?”

Clint turned slowly, already wincing, to see Wanda standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. “Uh,” he said, looking from her to the spoon clenched in his fist to Bucky eating his apple. “Target practice?”

A half-eaten apple hit him in the side of the head. “I’m winning,” Barnes deadpanned.

Wanda’s mouth hardened into a thin line. Clint slowly lowered his hands and dropped his projectiles on the counter. “This isn’t--I mean, it’s not really--”

“No.” The word was sharp and clicked. Wanda raised a finger and held it up as she looked at both Clint and Barnes. “You are behaving like children. Worse than children. I have seen three-year-olds who are better.”

Barnes had the audacity to snort and had the full glare turned on him at that. 100-year-old assassin or not, even he wilted a little under the stern gaze.

“Is something funny?” Wanda challenged.

Barnes shrugged. “Just that you think Barton is capable of more maturity than a toddler.”

A spark of red lit behind Wanda’s eyes. “He at least seems to have a chutochka more than you.”

Clint grimaced. He hated when the women he knew got angry enough to use their native languages. That usually meant that pain was going to happen soon.

“Here is what will be happening. You will apologize to each other.” Both Clint and Barnes started to protest at that, but Wanda just held up a hand, the action freezing them both in place. “You will apologize. And then you will work very, very hard, and you will start to treat each other like actual human beings instead of punching bags.”

There was no ‘or.’ She marely gave each of them another long look before walking away.

The long silence after that was broken by a beep from Bucky’s arm announcing that it was fully charged again.

“So, uh.” Clint scratched the back of his neck. “Did you end up getting that new battery before we left?”

Barnes unplugged himself and wound up the cord to store away. “Nah, didn’t have enough time. It’s not so bad, though. This one still lasts a couple days usually.”

“Yeah.” They stayed quiet a moment longer before Clint chuckled. “Damn. I didn’t think anyone but Natasha could give me a talking-to like that,” he said.

Barnes snorted. He held up his right hand and ticked off fingers with his left. “Natalia. Kate. Bobbi. Maria. Coulson. Steve.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m surrounded by very scary people who all give me a lot of grief for my life choices.”

“Well, you have done some spectacularly stupid things in your life.”

“Ugh!” Clint rolled his eyes. “Not you, too.”

“Who am I to talk?” Bucky said with a shrug. He smiled softly at Clint. “Especially when I’m one of the things you do on a regular basis.”

“Hey, don’t talk about yourself that way,” Clint responded instinctively. “You’re probably one of the be--” He caught himself just before blurting out more than he thought their relationship could handle, but based on Bucky’s shocked expression it was still a little too much. “Anyway. I uh, I should probably. Go.” He headed for the door.

“Hey, Barton!” Barnes called.

Clint turned just in time to get a red plastic lid hitting him on the forehead. The cap fell down into his palm, and he stared at it stupidly for a while before looking up at Bucky with a huge, way-too-feelings-filled grin.


	4. Chapter 4

Day 14:

“Pilot to exocrew. How’s it looking out there?”

“Not too bad.” Jan’s voice over the comm was slightly tinny. “We’ve got some damage here, but nothing that can’t be fixed. Might’ve impacted our interplanetary comms, though, so I’m going to focus on that first.”

“We’re also missing some solar patches over on this side,” Sam said. “We should have the supplies to replace it, but next time we land we’ll want to pick up more just in case.”

“I’ll put it on the list,” Clint said.

The day before, the ship had run into some space junk, likely jettisoned off at some point by an inconsiderate crew. It hadn’t done much, just left a slight moment of impact as it scraped by and, apparently, done some damage to the comms system and the solar panels.

Fortunately, with two engineers on the ship, it sounded like repairs wouldn’t take very long. Clint, meanwhile, was in charge of making sure they maintained speed and didn’t fly into any more junk with two people outside the ship. With no friction to slow down the ship or the people, this mostly just meant making sure not to accelerate. But still, Clint took his job incredibly seriously.

“You sure you guys don’t want to stay out there longer term? I’m sure we’d all appreciate the extra _space_.” Clint reached for his box of noodles.

Sam sighed loudly, while Jan just said, “I think maybe you should be the one out here, Clint. You were born to be a _star_.”

“Really?” Sam asked. “We’re doing this now?”

“Aww, come on, Sam, lighten up,” Jan said.

“He’s already in zero-G. How much lighter can he get?”

Jan chuckled and Sam sighed again, more loudly. “How’s that comm system going?” he asked pointedly.

“Eh, it’s missing a few connections. Probably because these wires are all loose.”

“Weak,” Clint said through a mouthful of noodles. “Too many double meanings. If I weren't looking I wouldn't even know that's a pun. Wanna take another shot?”

“No, but I could use one,” Sam muttered.

“Ayyy!” both Clint and Jan said. Clint threw out a finger gun, and he imagined that Jan did the same despite her probably actually being buried in her repairs.

“Well, if you’re up for it, I know the best shot on the ship,” Jan said, barely suppressing a laugh.

“First of all, no,” Sam said, “And second of all, no.”

“Besides, I’m--” _taken_ , Clint barely managed to refrain from saying. Which, what? Just because he and Bucky were...but that didn’t mean… He'd left the dead air too long. “...busy,” he managed to finish.

“Ouch,” Jan said. “Way to let a guy down gently. Sam looks heartbroken.”

“You’re on the other side of the ship from him, how do you know what he looks like?”

“I’m not heartbroken. I’m relieved. I don’t need either of you making shots at me.”

“Uh, excuse me, _either_? I’m the best shot on the ship.”

“Well…” Jan hedged.

Sam avoided hedging and went straight for the gut punch. “Barnes is best with a gun.”

Clint sat, mouth gaping like a fish (noodles hanging out), until he managed to stutter, “But I’m better with everything else! And how do you know I’m not better with a gun!”

“Not denying that. I included you in the mix.” Sam grunted with some sort of effort. “Still not interested in either one.”

“Too bad,” Jan said. “I was hoping to cross off the ‘travel with two annoying lovebirds’ on my agent bingo card. I only need that and ‘don’t run out of ammo in a fight’ to finish off a full card.”

“...what game is this, exactly?” Clint asked.

“Agent Bingo. Me and some others started it. You have to try to get a full card. Like a car trip game, but cooler.”

“That sounds debatable,” Sam said. “I’m just about done out here. Finishing off the last panel.”

“I’m almost finished, too. You should be seeing the comm system be coming up here soon, Clint, so if you could let me know when that flashes.”

Clint set down the noodles to check his console again. “Nothing yet,” he reported. “Who else is playing? And what are some of the other things on the list?”

“Well, there’s me, Carol. Daisy Johnson, don’t know if you know her. Bobbi. We told Natasha about it but she just looked at the card and passed it back to us saying she already had bingo. And it’s the typical stuff, you know. Like, the free space is ‘fall asleep without taking the shower you really should have taken.’ Then there’s ‘spend more than five hours doing paperwork,’ ‘spend less than half an hour doing paperwork.’ Anyway. Makes the stupid stuff feel more interesting.”

“One way to manage it, I guess. Your light’s on now, Jan. How are the panels, Sam?”

“Finished. I’m on my way back now.”

“Great. Let me know when you’re both at the bay doors.”

“Hmm. Pretty sure they’re made of metal, actually, not bays.”

“Goddammit, Jan.”

 

* * *

 

Day 17:

_Space. The final frontier. These are the voyages…_

It didn’t matter that Star Trek had been wrong about...basically everything about space travel. Clint still loved the old show and watched it whenever he got the chance. He currently had it pulled up on his comm screen while he sat in the pilot’s chair, vaguely keeping one eye on the controls to make sure they were still headed in the right direction and nothing weird was coming up.

Of course, with one eye on his show and one eye on the radar, he missed the thing coming up behind him until it had slunk one metal arm across his chest and was murmuring in his ear.

“You know,” Bucky said in a low voice, nipping at Clint’s earlobe, “I don’t think I like you watching this. Soon you’ll start thinking you can shift us into warp drive and help fight off some Romanians.”

“Excuse you, they’re Romulans.” Clint pulled away to look Bucky in the eye. “And you don’t have me fooled. You just don’t like thinking how awesome I’d be as a modern-day Kirk.”

Bucky hummed and leaned in to kiss at Clint’s neck. He said something else that Clint’s aids couldn’t pick up and started to slide his hand down and underneath Clint’s shirt.

And then sort of...froze...with his hand still gripping the fabric and his upper arm kind of crushing Clint’s shoulder into the seat back.

“Uh...Buck? Everything okay there?”

The sound of heavy panting made Clint turn his head to see Bucky staring wide-eyed at his arm. “It won’t move,” Clint lip-read more than heard.

Futz. “Okay. Uh. That’s okay. We’re okay. First things first…” He gently scooted down in the seat so that Bucky was no longer crushing him, though it did pull his shirt up even further. “Heh. Knew you’d like me as Kirk. All right, next is, uh. Shit.”

With Bucky’s arm wrapped around him like a seatbelt, Clint couldn’t get out of the chair. And with Clint stuck in the chair, Bucky couldn’t slide off the edge to free his arm from the chair.

“Does it just need a charge? Maybe I could find a charging port…”

“No, that’s not it. I charged it this morning. Fuck. I knew it was on the fritz, and now--”

“Hey, no, no freaking out on me, okay? We’re going to be fine.”

“How, exactly? Since we are both pinned to this chair for the forseeable future.”

Clint frowned in thought for a moment. “Okay, I have a plan. But you’re not going to like it.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet.”

“Fine, what is it?”

“We call Jan--”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

“Goddammit, man, would you rather we just stay here until Sam walks in here and finds us?”

“...we swear her to secrecy.”

“Naturally.” Clint reached for the headset, but it was just out of his reach. “Okay, uh, turn with me, okay? I’ve got to swivel closer.”

Bucky hobbled the chair around in a circle but Clint still couldn’t reach, so they shuffled again until eventually Bucky was able to grab it with his non-trapped hand. Clint said a quick thank you before slipping on the headset.

“Hey, uh, Jan?”

It took a moment before there was a response. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“Can you bring your tools and come to the cockpit?”

“I’m actually in the middle of something now. I’ll call Sam--”

“No!” Clint shouted, and both he and Bucky winced. “No, that’s fine, just...you know. Whenever you’re free. It can wait.”

“It most certainly cannot wait,” Bucky hissed.

There was silence on the other end of the line before Jan said, “I’m on my way now.”

“Oh, great, thanks Jan. You’re a lifesaver.”

Clint clicked off the comms and pulled off the headset. “She’s on her way.”

“And we’re sure she’ll be okay with keeping a secret, right?”

“Well, I know she likes to talk, but I think we can trust her. Besides, I’m actually willing to bet she’ll be kind of excited.”

“Why the hell would she be exc--”

“Oh. My. God. Yes!” Jan hopped in the doorway and pumped her fist. “Agent bingo, here I come!”

“Agent what now?” Bucky asked.

“I’ll explain later," Clint said. "Hey Jan. So uh, something’s up with Bucky’s arm. Would you might closing the door and seeing what’s the matter?”

“Right, yeah, sorry.” She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “So. You guys trying to take your own special ride?”

“ _Proklyat’ye_ ,” Bucky muttered. “Never mind, I’ll just stay like this.”

“Oh like your jokes aren’t just as bad,” Jan said. She pulled a few screwdrivers out of her belt.

“His are, maybe.” Bucky nodded down at Clint.

“Right, just him,” Jan deadpanned. She pulled out her tool box and opened it up on the dash. “So, have you been experiencing any other problems with your arm recently?”

Bucky shrugged with his free arm. “The battery hasn’t been lasting as long, but it still usually goes for at least a couple days. I just charged up this morning. Plus it usually gets slow before shutting off, but this time it was just suddenly stuck.”

“All right, probably a bad connection then. And you’re stuck all the way up to the shoulder joint?” She waited for his nod. “Okay, we’ll start there. Do I have permission to look at the area? I’m just going to remove the plating for now. I’ll let you know before I do anything more.”

Bucky nodded and said, “Yeah, that’s okay.”

Jan stepped in and went to work. She either didn’t notice (unlikely) the way Bucky’s right hand came around to stroke Clint’s arm or she knew enough not to bring it up. Clint leaned into the touch gratefully.

The Star Trek episode was still playing in the background. Kirk and Spock were speaking, and Clint tuned back into the episode easily.

_“But you’re not a fish, Mr. Spock, you’re--”_

_“No. Nor am I a man. I’m a Vulcan. I’d hoped I would be spared this, but the ancient drives are too strong. Eventually, they catch up with us. And we are driven by forces we cannot control. To return home, and take a wife. Or die.”_

Jan started snorting with laughter. “Sorry,” she said. “I know this is a very serious part, but I just...I mean. This episode is already so...and then with you two here. Anyway. Sorry. Don’t mind me.”

“What? What about the episode?” Bucky asked.

“Nevermind, it’s fine. So I’m looking at this set-up in here, and it’s a little bit of a mess to see what’s what. Can I take off another plate so I can get a better view?”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead. Clint, what’s the joke?”

Clint didn’t bother to cover his smile. “Well, you heard the man, Bucky. Er, the Vulcan. By the end of the episode, he must either get laid or die. Very dramatic stuff.”

Bucky glanced up at the still-running episode. “So is this the last episode? How they split up the team?”

“Nope! Start of season 2. But it’s fine. At the end of the episode, he ends up with Kirk.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “I am...not sure if you’re joking or not. This was made in the 1960s, right? As in, right in the middle of the repressed ages?”

“Yeah, it was. Didn’t stop people from seeing what’s there. And let me tell you, what is there is not very subtle.”

“Here’s the problem,” Jan said. “You’ve got a wire that’s come completely loose. Looks like it’s been working its way there for a while, since you’re missing a clamp there. I’ll get it rewired. If it’s okay with you, I’d also like to do some basic clean-up while I’m in there to help make sure that everything runs more smoothly for a while. I can also check out that battery for you, if you’d like.”

“Clamp please, and as long as the clean-up doesn’t take too long that’s fine. I know I just need a new battery pack, though, but if you want to help install it when we land that’s fine.”

“Okay. Just a few moments, then.” Jan went back into her toolbelt for a few more pieces. As she started fitting everything back together, she said, “Speaking of things not being subtle, I’m a little embarrassed at myself for not catching on to you two earlier.”

“What are you talking about? We’re very subtle,” Clint said.

“Right, the heated stares between you that you try to pass off as hatred. Incredibly subtle. Totally below the radar. That plus the way whenever one of you is in a conversation and the other is brought up, you just can’t help but make a comment. You know what, I don’t want to talk about this anymore, it’s all very embarrassing for me.”

“Right, well.” Clint looked up at Bucky and was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one blushing. “Anything to make you more comfortable, Jan.”

“Great. Aaand...that should be it! Try it now.”

Bucky’s fingers twitched, and he released hold of Clint’s shirt and then pulled off him fully with the left arm. The right arm stayed where it had draped itself across Clint’s shoulder as he flexed all the different joints.

“How does it feel?” Jan asked.

“It’s good,” Bucky said. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Let me get you all closed up, and then you two can get back to your show. Or whatever else you were doing.” She winked.

“No, no thanks, that’s fine.” Bucky flushed an even brighter red. “I’ll just. Uh. Take these.” He grabbed up the plates with their attached screws. “I’ll be. Uh. I’m going to just go to my room and take care of this. There. By myself.”

“Nooo…” Clint said, reaching for him, but Bucky had already ran off down the corridor. Clint turned his puppy dog eyes on Jan. “Now you scared him away.”

“Sorry, dear. But don’t worry, I think he’ll come back.”

“Yeah.” He stared longingly at the door for a moment more. “Oh, hey, Jan? Do us a favor?”

“Sure thing.”

“Bucky and I don’t really want anyone else to know about this yet, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

She blinked at him. “Unbelievable.” She started packing up her things. “That we could all go this long and not even..." She huffed. "Yes, Clint. I will keep your secret. Though I honestly doubt how much longer _you_ will be able to keep it a secret.”

He flashed her a big grin. “Thanks, Jan.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waved and wandered out again. Clint smiled and turned back to his show, rubbing gently at his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Day 21:

Of all the people on the ship, Sam was the one Clint interacted with the least. This wasn’t exactly intentional; it was just good tactics. If two people know how to fly the ship, one of them should be in the pilot’s chair basically at all times. With the near emptiness of space and the radars to warn of anything incoming, there was rarely anything the pilot needed to actually do, but in case something did come up it was important that someone be there who knew how to handle it.

So while Clint did see Sam every day, it was generally just in passing as they traded off shifts in the chair. It was a little bit of a shock, then, to walk in for the start of their agreed switch and find Wanda instead of Sam in the pilot’s seat.

“Uh…” Clint spun to look behind him, nearly spilling his coffee. “Did I miss something?”

The copilot’s seat turned to reveal Sam. “Wanda asked if I could teach her to fly, and in exchange she’s showing me a little more first aid stuff.”

“Oh, that’s...nice.” It made a lot of sense, but Clint felt oddly hurt. “I can, uh, I can also show you. If you’d like.”

Wanda didn’t look up from her intense study of the controls. “Thank you, Clint. I may ask you later.”

He tried really hard not to look petulant, but based on Sam’s smirk Clint was fairly certain he’d failed.

“I think you hurt his feelings,” Sam said to Wanda.

She finally looked up at him and her expression shifted from studious into exasperated, though, much like when Natasha looked at him like that, there was at least some fondness to it. “Sam is a better teacher,” she explained. “You go too fast, and you do not stop to explain things.”

“That’s not true! I’m totally great at explaining things. And besides, I’m the guy who--who. Uh.” Clint rubbed awkwardly at his neck. The pseudo-father-daughter relationship he had thought he had with Wanda was clearly all in his head, so he definitely wasn't going to bring it up now. It was pretty ridiculous, anyway.

Sam and Wanda both turned more fully to him. “Who what?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Nevermind, sorry. It was stupid. Uh. Anyway. You two want to keep going? I can come back later…” Clint ignored the heat on his cheeks and pointed back at the doorway.

Wanda’s face softened and she rose and came over to Clint. Taking his hand, she said, “Sam is a better teacher, but I still know you are a good man. And I thank you for everything you have done for me.”

Sam glanced back and forth between the two. “I feel like I’m missing something here,” he said.

“Clint was with the team that found me and Pietro,” Wanda replied. “He convinced us to stop fighting and join his team. Said that we could be heroes.” She smiled at him.

He shrugged. “Yeah, well. Turns out growing up in the circus you can make just about anything sound good, even this hot mess. Regretting joining up yet?”

She smiled. “Not yet." Then her expression turned dark. "Though if we do not find my brother…”

“Is that a worry or a threat?” Sam asked.

“Honestly,” Clint said, “I have found that if you are asking the question, the answer is probably ‘both.’”

Wanda sighed. “I just miss him.”

“I know.” Clint pulled her in for a hug and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll get them back.” He rested his chin on her head and looked over at Sam, who was stifling a grin. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just didn’t know you had all those dad instincts in you.”

He stuck his tongue out at the man but did let go of Wanda. “All right, all right, I can see I’m not wanted here. I’m going to go drink my coffee in peace like the old man that I am and you two can find me when you’re done playing loop-the-loop.”

“Be sure to find some kids and tell them they’ve done a good job, too. And maybe find some nice reading glasses,” Sam suggested.

Clint flipped him off on his way out. Maybe there were more reasons that he didn’t hang out with Sam.

 

* * *

 

Day 24:

There were many times on this trip that Clint was grateful to have his own room separated from everyone else’s, and this was definitely one of them. He traced one finger up and down the ridges of Bucky’s chest and grinned every time Bucky squirmed from a sensitive area.

“Stop that,” Bucky said, without making any move to actually stop Clint.

“Mmm.” Clint let his hand drift up to Bucky’s pec and rest there. “This is nice.”

That got Bucky shifting a little under him. “Yeah. I guess.”

Worried about losing his pillow (and definitely not about Bucky running away), Clint changed subjects. “What do you think happened to everyone?”

Like he’d hoped, Bucky settled again, and his hand even came up to card through Clint’s hair. “I don’t know. Hard to think what could take out a crew like that. Something either really big or really strong.”

“Or really smart,” Clint added.

“Or all of them together.” Bucky’s fingers drifted to the back of Clint’s neck. “Not really sure what we’re going to be able to do to stop them.”

“Maybe if we ask really nicely. Or, ooh, we could go undercover. How conspicuous could we really be? You were a secret agent, right?”

“Not really a covert one. And I thought you’d retired from that life.”

“The makeup is kind of a bitch,” Clint mused. “But...I’d do it for Nat.”

He felt Bucky nod. “I’d do it for Steve. Even if I think it’s a damned foolish idea.”

Clint snorted. “Yeah, probably. Oh well. Guess we’ll just have to plan once we get there. Do we have any more info on those pirates Coulson mentioned? That Star-guy and his crew?”

“Enough for me to see they’re probably not our main targets,” Bucky said. “Nothing about them reads ‘kidnappers.’ Way more petty theft. They actually style themselves as heroes, fighting against some of the monsters on the outer reaches. Kind of heart-of-gold mercenaries.”

“So not really the kind of people who would attack a government ship and kidnap some of our top agents.”

“Not really.”

“Damn.” Clint let out a deep breath, which caused Bucky to squirm again as the air coasted across his chest. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine.”

Clint hummed and pressed a kiss to Bucky’s pec to feel him squirm again. He grinned against the skin. “I like how sensitive you are.”

“Yeah, well, seventy years without the touch of another person will do that to you, I guess.” Bucky shifted a little under the touch but kept his hands wound in Clint’s hair. “Not that I...shit. I guess it wasn’t the right timing for that one.”

“It’s okay.” Clint scooted up the bed again so he could rest his head on Bucky’s shoulder and look him in the eyes. “Coupla brainwashed assassins, what do we know about comedic timing? I’m willing to bet Steve gives you just as many dirty looks as Natasha gives me over inappropriate jokes.”

“Mm, doubtful.” Bucky leaned over and pecked Clint on the nose. When he pulled back, he was grinning, that soft smile that made something inside Clint feel all warm and gentle. “Your jokes are truly horrendous.”

“Excuse you!” Clint blustered. “I am a comedic gold mine. I just suffer from being born in the wrong time period.”

“Same, honestly.”

Clint narrowed his eyes and poked Bucky’s chest. “Okay, see, now that’s why I don’t buy that you don’t get a shit-ton of Steve glares. Which, honestly, how do you even stand those? The guilt…”

“Right, because it’s so much better to get Natalia’s murder glare pointed at you.”

“Yeah, but she gives that to everyone. And she’ll dole it out all the time, like if you eat the last cookie or eat it on her bed and get crumbs everywhere.”

“Those are both perfectly reasonable reasons to glare at someone, Clint. I would probably murder you, actually, if you ate the last cookie in my own damn bed.”

“No you wouldn’t. I’m too adorable.” Clint fluttered his eyes.

Bucky glared at him, then gave in and kissed him. “Damn it, you’re right. You’re just like a stray puppy that wandered in and everyone has to take care of.”

“And you’re the murder kitten that intends to kill all his friends, but damned if anyone else tries to kill those friends first.”

“You know,” Bucky said, propping himself up a little, “I think we’re getting really good at this pillow talk stuff. Steve would be so proud.”

“Oh good, I’ve finally done something to earn the pride of Steven Grant Rogers. Too bad I’m too naked to really appreciate the moment.”

Bucky grinned again, this time a little wickedly. “What, you don’t appreciate things properly when you’re naked?”

“Oh, no, that’s definitely not it. I definitely appreciate things, lots of things.”

“You’re babbling again.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right. Oh no, how ever can you shut me up…”

Bucky rolled his eyes but leaned in for a long kiss anyway. He rolled up on top of Clint and reached up to prop himself against the mattress.

The kiss stopped suddenly and Clint chased Bucky’s lips as he pulled back. Bucky sat up, holding something in his hand.

“What’s this?” he asked.

Clint blinked blearily at the small stuffed animal in Bucky’s hands. “Oh. Um. Shit. Well.”

Bucky stared harder at the bear. “Did you...did you make this?”

“No, no! It was a gift. From Jan.”

“...why the hell did Jan have a Bucky Bear?” He held the animal out for inspection, eyeing it distastefully.

“I think it was kind of a joke, at first, but then I was having trouble sleeping, and she offered it to me for nightmares, and it’s actually been kind of...nice…”

Bucky’s eyes softened. “Yeah?”

Clint gulped. “Yeah. So. Uh. If you could just sort of, you know. Put that back. And we can get back to what we were doing.” He wiggled his hips a little where they were pinned under Bucky.

Bucky gently set the bear on the ground and came back to hover over Clint, hands framing his head. “You are so sappy, you know that?”

“It’s come up once or twice, yes.”

“Well, as long as you’re aware.” Bucky smiled again and leaned in for another kiss. “But as long as the real me is in the bed, let’s keep the mini-me out of it. He probably doesn’t need to see any of this.”

“Oh, right, and I’m the sap--” Clint’s incredibly clever remark was cut off by Bucky’s mouth, but he found he didn’t mind that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those curious, the _Star Trek_ episode is "Amok Time," season 2 episode 5.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, I want to say thank you for continuing to read and follow along with us. For those of you who have seen Infinity War, I suspect you may be wanting a little comfort. I hope you can find some of it here.
> 
> This week, anyway. Next week will be a little rougher. :)
> 
> Last week I was out of town on vacation, and this week I'm out of town attending a work conference, so I haven't had much time to do any new writing, but don't worry. My buffer is still in place, so updates will continue as scheduled.

The planet Hunong laid before them, the clouds in the atmosphere swirling to reveal large continents of purple foliage with bright red mountains cutting like open wounds through the land. Not that they would be landing on the planet itself. Getting in and out of orbit was hard enough without having to worry about fighting an atmosphere.

Their actual destination was just coming into view around the planet, the large space station that circled Hunong and served as a central hub for visitors. Ships designed for planetary travel shuttled supplies and sometimes people between the planet and station, which was large enough to count as its own city. People were born, raised, and died on Hunong Space Station without ever leaving.

Clint was never quite sure whether he felt jealous of people who lived their whole life in one place or grateful not to be one of them. There were definitely times he was so sick of never being able to plant roots anywhere, get to see the same people all the time and maybe get a house, that he wished he’d never become an agent. Though his wandering days had started long before he’d ever heard of SHIELD. They’d just managed to make him legitimate.

And he didn’t always hate the life. He couldn’t deny the thrill of excitement that happened every time he made a perfect shot or completed a mission. Every time he saved someone’s life or improved the universe just a little, it made all the days on a tin can flying through space look a lot more bearable. He also couldn’t deny that some of the people he’d met made up for the troubles all on their own.

He gave the warning to the crew to strap down and hailed the station for docking information, and fifteen minutes later they were sliding into a spot on one of the far decks. Once the ship was properly docked and powered down, he headed out to the landing bay to join the rest of the crew.

“Couldn’t have gotten us a farther spot, Barton?” Bucky asked. “I think I can still see the city hub from here.”

Clint shrugged. “Undercover mission means we get undercover priorities, which is none. I’m just glad we got a spot so fast. I’ve heard of people waiting days to get a dock.”

“We’re lucky we aren’t here for their local fruit harvest,” Jan said. She pulled on a hat that completed her undercover civilian outfit, which still looked incredibly stylish for being SHIELD-provided clothing. “They’ve got this berry that only grows here, and let me tell you, it’s almost worth killing over.”

“Thanks, Jan,” Sam said. “That’s very reassuring.”

Wanda came out from her room where she had also gotten changed. As she was the language specialist and Jan was the best at making friends, they’d decided as a crew that these two would head the intel mission while Sam and Clint were in charge of restocking. Bucky, along with his murder face, was in charge of guarding the ship. Last time Clint had been on a mission where someone went off on their own, it had taken three days and a destroyed building to get them back, so this time everyone actually heading out was grouped into pairs.

“Let’s meet back here by 2200 hours local time. I don’t want to be out past dark, and we’ll be orbiting around to the dark side of the planet around then,” Sam said. “Then if we still need more intel we can decide if we want to spend another day here or make a change of plans.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Clint grinned and saluted.

Sam rolled his eyes and headed off into the market, forcing Clint to jog a little to keep up. He looked back to see Jan and Wanda heading off as well and Bucky closing up behind.

“So, Mr. Man-With-a-Plan,” Clint said. “What is it?”

“I’m looking for some parts we need for the ship so I can do some repairs and have back-ups on hand. You, and I’m going to regret saying this, but you are in charge of getting food and any other supplies we need.”

“Fifty frozen pizzas, check. Anything else?”

Sam groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please just...try to restock as best as you can to what we had before. And we’re running low on some paper goods, soap. Just...see what you can find.”

Clint saluted again before peeling off into the crowd. He surveyed the stalls around him. This far out, while there were still merchants they weren’t offering much variety, so he was willing to bet both he and Sam would be heading closer to the interior anyway. Keeping one eye on his teammate, he headed in toward the central hub.

The station was designed a little like a wheel, with an inner hub that had most residences and businesses and arms that stretched out for people to dock. The arms were lined with merchants, with their offerings becoming more and more spare further out from the hub. No one wanted to haul all of their merchandise out to the far stretches of the station, and those who did only offered the basics.

This was why the best spots were those closest to the hub. They were reserved primarily for visiting dignitaries, followed by the wealthy and famous who could afford to arrange a spot early and grease the way in. Ships on official government business generally could find either a second- or third-tier spot depending on how lucky they were. Ships on unofficial government business got to join the rest of the pack out on the spokes.

Clint honestly preferred these outer spaces, himself. Everything in the hub was a little too clean and polished for him. Sure, the outer stretches were dirty and often had actual outlaws trying to make back alley deals, but at least they were honest about it. Besides, the best deals and most interesting items were always somewhere on the outskirts of the station, as long as you knew where to look for them.

Only about ten minutes in, still well out on the platform and surrounded by eccentric stalls decorated in bright colors and kitschy knick-knacks, there was a large market area selling fresh food. Clint dropped in to do some shopping and pick up all the basics before he went looking for something fun and interesting.

Priding himself on his ability to act like an actual adult sometimes, he grabbed the largest pack of toilet paper and threw it in with the fruit and vegetables already on his cart. A couple frozen pizzas went along with the rest of the dry and frozen goods, and the whole thing was paid for along with a delivery fee to have it all taken back to the ship.

He checked his watch. Four more hours to kill before the rendezvous. He wandered a little more, down by some stalls piled high with ship parts. He spotted Sam haggling with a very small Marsumian over a stack of solar panels and decided to hover nearby.

He wandered up and down the rows looking for anything interesting. At one table he picked up a few pieces that he could use for some of his arrows. Speakers, wires, and fabric for wrapping up bolos and putty all made their way into his pockets.

A few rows down, his eye caught on a flash of bright blue that made him wince and turn away. But when he looked again, it was just a necklace with a sapphire that happened to be just the wrong shade of blue to trigger some bad memories. The old woman sitting at the stall smiled at him and pointed to the necklace. “Pretty, isn’t it?” she said, though Clint read the words on her lips more than heard them.

He stepped in closer so as to better hear her over the crowd. The woman smiled wider. “Buying for a special someone?” she asked.

Clint scanned the table for a simple piece in gunmetal gray before realizing what exactly he was doing. “Uh, no. Not really. Don’t have anyone to buy for.”

“Hmm.” The woman rubbed at a ring on her own thumb, as though she knew exactly what he had been thinking. The topaz-set bronze ring was far too gaudy for Bucky, though.

Goddammit, why had he thought that? He could feel himself turning bright red.

“Whoever they are,” the woman said, “they should have a strong mind to go with your big heart.” She tapped her ring again and smiled. “Twenty percent off if you buy two pieces.”

Clint chuckled at himself for not catching the scheme earlier. He’d been a carnie himself; he should be better at spotting a sales pitch when it hit him between the eyes. “No thanks. Maybe next time.”

He looked around and saw that Sam had drifted a few tables away, so he slid further that direction and around the corner.

“No way,” he said upon rounding the bend. The booth in front of him was full of Watt-o-Bars in various flavors. “Oh man, yes! I thought they’d stopped selling these!” He ran forward with an eager smile. “Hi! I’d like to buy all your salted cheese and banana bars, please.”

 

* * *

 

Thirty minutes later and 25 boxes of Watt-o-Bars richer, Clint strolled back to the ship, trailing Sam all the way up to their dock, where he caught up and fell in stride with him.

“Looks like you were pretty successful,” he said, eyeing the cart piled full of supplies. “Find anything special?”

Sam looked over at Clint, who was only carrying his boxes of Watt-o-Bars. He looked pained as he said, “Please tell me that’s not all you bought.”

“I got some frozen pizzas, too,” Clint replied. He quickly stepped away from the retaliatory punch that Nat or Bucky would have given him, but Sam went for the low-blow: a disappointed face. He’d been learning too much from Steve. “Relax,” Clint said. “I got the normal stuff, too. Had it sent back to the ship already. Speaking of which…”

The cart of Clint’s food was still sitting outside the ship with a large Trox guarding it. He and Sam walked up to the closed ship.

“Hey, uh. So I guess you’re the delivery guy?” Clint asked.

The alien glared at him, then looked up to the hull of the ship and knocked on it once with a huge fist. The intercom crackled to life and Bucky’s voice came over the speakers.

“I told you if you banged up my ship again I was going to shoot. You shouldp probably start running.”

“Bu--Barnes!” Clint shouted, shooting a side-eye glance at Sam and the Trox. “It’s me! Us! Me and Sam! We’re here with the food and supplies!”

Nothing else seemed to happen for a few minutes, then the gangplank lowered to reveal Bucky standing at the opening of the ship, fully armored and armed. He pointed a huge gun at Clint. “Password,” he growled.

“For fuck’s sake, Barnes,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. He grabbed his cart and started shoving it up the plank. “Put away that pathetic replacement of a cock and help us put everything away.”

Clint, spluttering behind them both, turned to the deliveryman. “Hey, thanks for watching everything. How much do I owe you?”

The Trax held out a keypad with a timer on it. Clint stared wide-eyed at the number. “Damn it, Bucky,” he whispered. He slid out his paycard and used it to pay the guy, who left with barely a grunt. “At least it’s all mission money,” Clint consoled himself. Then he grabbed the cart and followed Bucky and Sam up the plank.

The two were already arguing as they unloaded ship supplies into the bay. Clint didn’t catch everything; the room was weirdly shaped and the acoustics did strange things to his hearing aids. What he did catch seemed to be mostly the basic posturing that they had all somehow avoided up until now in the trip. Or at least Clint had avoided being a part of those discussions.

Spotting Bucky’s very menacing gun lying on one of the crates, Clint picked it up and turned it over in his hands a few times. Then he grinned and pointed it straight at Bucky.

“Hey Barnes,” he shouted. Then when Bucky turned, he fired straight for the forehead, nailing him between the eyes with a small foam dart. “Why’d you paint your nerf gun black?”

Bucky plucked off the dart with a scowl. “Everything looks better in black,” he said. “And this way I can prmfr in hrmsnr.”

“One more time?” Clint called. “You mumbled, I didn’t catch it.”

“I can use it to intimidate people without causing an interplanetary incident,” Bucky shouted back. “You should try it sometime.”

“I dunno.” Clint sauntered toward Bucky and Sam. “I prefer not to go for intimidation first, anyway. Gives the wrong impression.”

“I notice you’re not denying the interplanetary incident thing,” Sam said.

Clint grinned. He readied the toy gun again, this time aiming for Sam. “Nah, never make promises you can’t keep.” Then he opened fire.

 

* * *

 

Clint stood behind a large crate, taking deep breaths through his nose while he watched every angle for moving shadows. Sam had taken to climbing atop the boxes and swooping down from above like a vengeful angel, but as long as there was a shadow there was something to aim at.

Bucky, meanwhile, was proving his name as a goddamn assassin and was practically invisible to spot coming. Which shouldn’t be possible with that arm, but he was somehow managing it. Clint was relying on a lot of trick shots to get his points, but he was almost out of ammo.

He slowed his breathing again and tried desperately to listen. A sound behind him made him spin and fire automatically at the humanoid forms there. “Ha!” he shouted, knowing already he’d hit true. His excitement faded as he realized he’d managed to tag Janet and Wanda, who were coming up the open gangplank.

“Uh...surprise?” he said as he felt two nerf darts hit him. He spun to glare at the already-disappearing heads as he plucked one dart off his neck and another off his ass. “How was your day?”

Wanda was still staring past him into the hold. “What did you do in here?” she asked, horrified. Which, okay, so they’d made a little bit of a mess, but there was no need for that sort of over the top reaction. It’s not like the boxes were...well at least they had...after all they’d mostly closed up or at least kind of gone around anything that had opened and spilled.

It was fine.

“We were having some, uh, bonding time,” Clint went with. “And practicing combat scenarios.”

Jan swatted him on the arm. “Without inviting me?” she huffed.

“It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing,” Clint said. “We’ll invite you next time.”

“You’d better.”

“We need to hurry and clean everything up,” Wanda said. “We have news, and we need to be leaving as soon as possible.”

That brought Sam and Bucky out from their hiding places. “What news?” Sam asked.

“We’ll tell you on the way.” Jan jumped in and started shoving packets back into the crate they’d fallen from. “Wanda’s right, we need to get everything ready to launch as soon as possible.”

“Where are we heading?” Clint asked. He bent over to lift a stack of boxes back into place.

Wanda stepped in and used her telekinetic ability to carefully line a box up on its shelf. “We need to go to Ibar,” she said. “It is in the--”

“The Boleen nebula, I know,” Clint said. “Sam, where are we at in orbit?”

Sam frowned and pulled something up on his comm. “We’re sunward, in the third quarter of Hunong’s orbit. If we’re heading out to Boleen, we’d do better to wait a few hours so we can launch with the spin to give us a little more kick.”

“And we’re at 2200 now...” Clint thought out loud, bringing up his comm. “So we’ve got five hours before we should be launching. I’ll put in the request now with the port authorities, but we’ve got time after that to talk about what’s going on. Give me a minute and I’ll be right back.”

Of course, in the nature of government bureaucracy, the request took closer to an hour, and by the time Clint made it back to they group they’d finished securing the hold and were all gathered in the galley. He slid into his seat next to Wanda and she pushed a cup of cocoa towards him. He took it with a smile. It wasn’t coffee, but it would do for now.

“So,” he said. “What did I miss?”

“They’re not here.” Bucky was glaring down into his mug, seeming intent on reheating it by the mere heat of his gaze. Based on the steam and trembling of the tiny marshmallows, it was working. Either that or it was Bucky shaking, which was even more upsetting than his murder eyes. “They were never here.”

“What?” Clint looked around at the dour faces of his companions. “But the mission files said--”

“They were fucking wrong.” Bucky slammed his hands on the table and stood. “We got some bad intel, and now we’re on the wrong goddamn side of the galaxy while who knows what the fuck is actually happening to the other team.” He marched toward the door.

Clint half-rose to follow before stopping himself and sinking back into his chair.

“You should go after him,” Jan told Clint.

“I will. Later. He needs space right now to work it out in his own head.” He sighed and turned back. “So, why Ibar?”

“When we realized the team had never come through here, I went back and checked the original distress call Tony sent out,” Jan said. “I was able to use the higher level processing systems available here to trace the message back to a point near Ibar. I wasn’t able to check any of the other messages to confirm, since those aren’t stored within our mission files, but at least this way we’re checking out the actual origin of the message.”

“Why did the original files say Hunong, then, if the message origin was Ibar and the other crew never even came through this area?” Clint asked.

“Could’ve been a mistake,” Jan said.

Sam harrumphed. Wanda, hands clenched around her own mug, said, “Or someone was trying to keep us away.”

“But no one even knew about this mission,” Clint argued. “Just Coulson and...us…” At that he realized why everyone else looked so gloomy. “But...you guys don’t actually think…”

“I checked the ship’s data to confirm,” Jan said. “We’ve been sending automatic updates to an unknown location that is not SHIELD.”

Sam rose and locked eyes with each person at the table. “I’m going to call it. Based on all the information we have, it seems clear to me that someone on our team is a mole.”


	6. Chapter 6

Clint gave Bucky twenty more minutes to wind down before he made his way to the hold. Bucky had set up his punching bag again in the corner and was, as predicted, taking out all of his emotion on it. The echoing booms of alternating flesh and metal fists striking against the heavy bag echoed through the room. Clint climbed quietly up to sit on a ledge overlooking the hold. He saw the slight tightening of Buck’s shoulders indicating he was aware of Clint’s presence, but the rhythmic punches continued. Clint settled in to wait.

Another thirty minutes passed before the punches faded out. Bucky grabbed the bag to still it and leaned his head against it. Clint took this as his cue and slid down from his perch. He stuck his hands in his pockets and sauntered over to Bucky.

“So,” he started. “This is all pretty shit.”

Bucky drew in a ragged breath, the shudder going through his whole body. He turned his head without lifting it. “S’one way to put it.”

“Wanna talk?”

“No.” Bucky sighed, reared back, and, with a yell, gave the bag one last powerful punch. He turned back to Clint and took one staggering step before collapsing to his knees. His shoulders shook as he mumbled something in a low voice.

Clint sank to the ground next to him. “Pretty sure everyone else is keeping their distance, so no one would see to judge you if you wanted a hug.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before strong arms wrapped around his shoulders. Bucky’s cheek, shoved up against Clint’s, was damp, and he sniffled loudly. His arms trembled, and his hands clutched at Clint’s shirt.

Clint held him as tightly as possible. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “We’ll find those sons of bitches and blast them into next century.”

Bucky let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob before pulling slightly away. “We don’t even know where they are. What’s happening to them...there hasn’t even been a ransom note! What are they waiting for? How do we even know if they’re still alive?”

“You can’t think like that,” Clint said. “You can’t be thinking like we’ve already lost. We’ll find them. We’re all still here together.”

“Are we?” Bucky pulled away fully and tucked his arms in tight to his chest. He looked away, down to the floor and off into the distance. “Everyone thinks there’s a mole.”

Clint did not have Natasha’s eye for reading people, but he liked to think he’d picked up some basic skills at reading body language from his time with her and his time sitting and watching people for hours. That coupled with the additional hours he’d spent watching Bucky, and he’d managed to pick up enough to know that right now his boyfriend was scared and hurt.

 _Boyfriend_? Where had that come from? Whatever, problem for another day.

“Look, it’s like you said. We don’t know anything yet for sure. We’re all just trying to figure out what to do next here.”

Bucky scoffed. “Seems pretty obvious. Find the mole and get rid of them.”

“If there even is a mole,” Clint argued. “I mean, think about it. Who would it even be?” He ran through the options in his head, dismissing them all as he went. “We’re all just here to save our friends and family. Or for the fun of it. I’m not entirely sure about Jan. But still, there’s no way anyone on this ship is working for the other side.”

At the sight of Bucky curling up on himself even more, Clint finally connected the dots.

“Aw, Buck, no,” he said. “No, we’re not--come on. No one’s gonna think it’s you. I know--”

“Know what?” Bucky snapped. “Know that everyone on this ship is very aware of the seventy years I spent as an assassin? That I helped to undermine governments and murdered innocent people? That I nearly killed Steve, my best friend, and actually did kill anyone else I was pointed at?”

“Don’t fucking talk like that’s all your fault, or like that’s all you are,” Clint bit back. “You know better than that. You don’t get to blame yourself for that time. You weren’t in control then, couldn’t be in control. I thought--” His breath hitched, and he cursed to himself. Naturally, all this situation needed was for him to start crying, too. He finished in a hoarse whisper, signing along to make sure he was understood. “I thought we weren’t doing that anymore.”

“Fuck.” The word was too quiet to be heard, and Clint almost missed it entirely as Bucky dragged a hand down his face. Fortunately, Bucky started signing along with his words as well, which helped since he was still mumbling at the floor. “I’m not saying...I know it was just the...the brainwashing. But I don’t think everyone else will see it that way.”

“You’re the victim here,” Clint said. “More than I ever was. You were a soldier, fighting for your country. I was a circus carnie pickpocketing anyone I could, and then I was a mercenary, all on my own and with no one controlling me. And Wanda has her skeletons, and I’m sure Janet does, too. But that doesn’t mean that there is anyone on this ship I wouldn’t trust with my life.”

“Even Sam?” Bucky managed to meet Clint’s eyes again and even had a small smile in place.

“Yes, even Sam. And even you. We’ve got this.” Repeating it to Bucky made Clint realize that he honestly believed it. He’d just spent almost a month in tight quarters with everyone on the ship, and looking at each of them he couldn’t see any of them as a mole, set on betraying them all. “It was just a guess, anyway. Let’s let the big brains on the ship think it over, and then we can have our time to worry.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “As though you aren’t a big brain on the ship,” he said.

“Careful, Barnes.” Clint punched him lightly in the metal arm. “That was almost a compliment.” Then he noticed Bucky’s wince at the touch. “Aw shit, you hurt yourself again, didn’t you? You know you have to be careful with those connections.”

He reached for the arm, and Bucky let him at it with only a slight huff. “It’s not that bad,” he said. “It’s probably just wanting some tightening now. I’ll do it in my room.”

“I can take care of it now,” Clint said. He pulled a small kit of screwdrivers and other tools out of his belt. “Up here?” he tapped at one of the upper panels.

Bucky nodded. “Why do you have a toolkit in your belt?” he asked. “Did you take those out with you onto the Hunong station?”

“Of course.” Clint began unscrewing the panel. “Never know when you’re going to need something like that, especially in a big crowd.”

“Are these lockpicking tools?”

“Oh yeah, never leave home without those. You have no idea how many times they’ve come in handy.”

“You really are a mess, aren’t you?”

“Only on days ending in ‘y.’ Besides, I thought that was one of the things you liked about me. That sometimes we can be messes together.”

Clint replayed those last few words in his head again and snapped his mouth shut, instead focusing intently on his work. That was bordering on feelings and sappiness, and the last thing he needed right now was to look too clingy and drive Bucky away. Just because _Clint_ was feeling a little bit sappy didn’t mean Bucky felt the same. After all, they were still just fuckbuddies by all official standards.

“Guess you’re right,” Bucky said. “How’s it looking in there?”

“Not too bad. You jostled some of the joints. I think you may need a new pressure valve here soon, too. Probably good to let Jan check on that.”

“Yeah, maybe later.” Bucky waited quietly while Clint finished tuning up what he could and closed everything up. They sat together a moment longer before Bucky took a deep breath and said, “I guess we should go rejoin the group, then.”

“Together.” Clint stood and offered his hand to Bucky, who smiled.

“Together.”

 

* * *

 

Despite their brave statement in the hold, they carefully arranged to actually rejoin the group at appropriately spaced intervals. Clint headed for the cockpit first to get updates on their scheduled departure time while Bucky took down his punching bag and went to clean up a little. Clint finished first and headed down to talk with everyone else before Bucky arrived.

“Hey, Clint,” Sam said as soon as he walked in the door. “I’m glad you’re here. We’ve talked it over, and we’re all pretty sure--”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Clint said, holding up a hand, “and you’re completely wrong. Look, just because he was forced to play puppet to Hydra for all those years doesn’t mean that he’s still on their team.”

“But--” Jan started.

“No, guys. And what’s more, he wasn’t ever really with them! And he’s done so much to show that he’s here with us, been a part of the team with us. I mean, we’ve all had our ups and downs these past few weeks, but I trust him, just like I trust any of you.”

Wanda reached over to place a hand on his arm. “Clint,” she began.

“I get that you’re all just trying to do what’s right for the ship. But what’s right is trusting each other. I...I know I’m not always that great at being part of a team. It was just me and Natasha for so long, but I know what a good team looks like. And this is it. All of us together, taking care of each other. So that’s my vote. That we all keep going together.”

“Good,” Sam said. “Then we all agree.”

“And another--wait, what?” Clint went to his ear to make sure his aid was in. “We...what?”

“ _Krásny hlúpy človek_ ,” Wanda said, shaking her head. “Of course we do not think it is anyone here. It is as you said. We are a team.”

“But...but Sam said…”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean on the ship. We have a larger network going on here. My guess is someone back at SHIELD planted bad info into the mission reports. Which no one here generated, as far as I know, meaning that none of us could be the mole.”

“Oh. Right.”

Jan came over and gave him a hug. “It’s okay,” she said. “I understand why you were scared. But we’re not hogtying anyone and leaving them in the hold to rot. We’re in this together.”

Clint resolutely ignored the tears at the corners of his eyes. “Okay. Good. That’s really good.”

“Did I miss something?”

Clint spun at the sound of Bucky’s voice and grinned hugely. “No one’s the mole!” he shouted.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at everyone. “But you all said--”

“Oh for the love of…” Sam said. “I just said there was a mole! I never said it was anyone on the ship or that we all suddenly needed to start pointing fingers. You all are making this very dramatic.”

Clint shot him a look. “You mean you didn’t say it in a very dramatic way, gently leaning over the table and with big dramatic pauses as you stared everyone down?”

Sam stared down at his hands, a bit bashful. “All right, so maybe I was trying to be a little dramatic. Little bit Wesley Snipes, maybe Denzel.”

“Aww, I didn’t know you liked classic movies,” Jan said. “Does this mean you’ll watch _Moana_ with me?”

“No,” Sam said.

“Hell _yes_ ,” Clint said. “Movie night!” He looked back at Bucky, who still looked a little shellshocked from the quick change of events. Clearly someone who needed a distraction. “Bucky, you like _Moana_?”

“I don’t...what?”

“Yeah, he’s in. And if Sam doesn’t want to join he can pilot while we’re having fun.”

“Clint.” Bucky reached forward to grab his arm. “Can I talk to you?”

“Yup, sure thing. Oh, and everyone make sure we’re all buckled down and ready to fly--departure is in about two hours.” Clint waved to everyone as Bucky practically dragged him away and down toward his bedroom.

“Buck, come on, I know I said we have two hours, but I do have other things I need to get done first.” But one look at Bucky’s blank expression once they were in the room and Clint was pulling him gently to sit on the bed next to him. “Hey, hey. Okay, sorry about the jokes. I guess those were in pretty poor taste, huh? Go ahead, let me have it.”

Instead of yelling at him for his social insensitivity, though, Bucky pulled Clint in by his shirt. He buried his face in Clint’s chest and his shoulders shook again.

“Woah, hey there. I thought this was a good thing?” Clint ran a hand down Bucky’s back. Bucky mumbled something, and Clint patted him again. “Didn’t hear that one. Wanna try again?”

Bucky sat back, and while there were tear tracks staining his cheeks, he mostly just looked shocked. “They trust me,” he said. “I didn’t...it’s been...probably since before, back with Steve.”

Clint smiled. “Yeah, man. They’re pretty good people. I think we all got pretty damn lucky here.”

“Fuck.” Bucky wiped his face. “Sorry, it was just a lot.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Clint hugged him again, and they sat close for a moment more. “I think they might like hearing it, too.”

Bucky groaned. “Sam’s going to be so infuriating if he finds out I like him, though.”

“I dunno, he might not.”

Bucky gave Clint a look.

“Yeah, all right, he totally will. But it’ll still be good. Come on.” Clint stood and pulled Bucky up with him. “Let’s go tell everyone that we like them. And I guess we can bring up that we like each other, too,” he hazarded.

“Pretty sure they already know,” Bucky replied. “What with me pulling you in here like that.”

“I mean, maybe. We could always say you brought me in here to chew me out, if you want.”

“Why do you automatically jump to that?” Bucky asked. “Thinking that every time someone wants to talk to you they are planning on yelling at you?”

“Experience, mostly. It’s like you said, I’m pretty much a mess all the time.”

“Doesn’t mean people should be telling you off all the time, or treating you like shit. And if anyone start to, you can tell them to fuck off.”

“Even if it’s you?”

“Absolutely.”

“...Even if it’s Tasha?”

“...Yes, but carefully.”

“Steve?”

“Clint. You’re stalling.” Bucky reached up and brushed a hand over Clint’s face. “Just because you’re kind of a mess doesn’t mean you don’t have value and that you don’t deserve to be treated well by all of your friends. That’s just basic human decency. I will still be mad at you if you do something stupid to hurt yourself or someone else, but it’s not because you are a bad person or that you are always wrong.”

Looking down into Bucky’s clear gray eyes, Clint could read nothing but sincerity in his face. He gave a weak smile. “Okay. I’ll work on that.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and tugged Clint down into a chaste kiss. “That’s all I’m asking.”

A loud knock on the door interrupted them. “You two done in there?” Jan asked. “We gotta get moving if we’re gonna be ready to go in time.”

“Yeah, we’re coming,” Bucky shouted. He kissed Clint one more time before letting him go and opening the door.

“Oh good, you’re already dressed. One step down,” Jan said. “Come help me get everything strapped down in the hold.”

“Sure,” Bucky said. “And Jan?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For trusting me.”

She smiled widely back at him. “What are friends for?”

 

* * *

 

Clint finished running the start-up sequence and double-checked all of his systems again. He’d gone over the whole ship one more time to make sure everything looked good and secure. Their course was already logged into the ship’s computers, and they were set to depart in just over twenty minutes.

“How’s it looking?” Sam plopped down in the co-pilot’s seat. “Everything in place?”

“Just about. Jan already came in and gave it all the go-ahead.” Clint gestured over to the control panel to his left, which had been ripped up and still had wires hanging free.

“Damn, she really did a number on everything. Someone must’ve buried that tracker in deep.”

Clint frowned at the mess. It really did show a lot of foresight. Planting the false mission data, tracking the ship, all to make sure they got to Hunong. “You really think we’re doing the right thing?” he asked. “I mean, it’s a pretty big step, cutting all communications to SHIELD.”

“We were already pretty much off the grid,” Sam said. “We were only in touch with Coulson and Maria, anyway, plus whoever was hacking our systems. And we have no way of knowing if Coulson or Maria is compromised, or what’s being done to any of those communications. This is the team I trust, and if we’re going to make it, I think we’ll have to do it on our own.”

“It just feels...I don’t know. Is it too cliche to say that it feels too easy?”

“It’s a little cliche. But today also seems to be the day for it. Barnes actually told me he liked me. I think we had a bonding moment. So if you’ve got any worries this is probably the time to get them out of the way.”

Clint bit his lip. “It’s just that everything else was so well thought out. Someone was clearly trying to get us to Hunong, but why? What was supposed to happen to us here? It almost feels like a trap, but I can’t figure it out.”

“Come on, man.” Sam clasped Clint’s shoulder. “Don’t you think you’re overthinking this a bit? We found the trap, and we are avoiding it. We’ve got the right coordinates now, and we’re getting rid of any means people might have for tracking us. This is the right call.”

“Yeah.” Clint let out a sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. This whole thing has us on edge. To be honest, we’re taking a risk here, and there’s no promises it’ll be the right call. But things are pretty shitty, and we just gotta do the best we can.”

Clint nodded, then jumped at a voice coming through his headset.

“RF-606, this is Tower 83. We are confirming your readiness for departure.”

Clint switched over to the ship’s comms. “All right, everyone this is it. Confirm readiness for departure.”

“Maximoff, ready to depart.”

“Barnes, ready to depart.”

“Van Dyne, ready to depart.”

Sam buckled himself in and gave a thumbs up. “Wilson, ready to depart.”

Switching back to the station frequency, Clint replied, “Tower 83, this is RF-606. We are ready for departure.”

“RF-606, you are now cleared for departure.”

Clint looked at Sam and tried to smile. “Here we go, I guess.” He switched off the landing gear, detaching them from the port, and navigated them down and away. A slight push, and they were dropping free of the station’s gravitational field, already facing toward Ibar.

Once free of the station, Clint reached down to the wire Jan had showed him before and took the wire clippers from his belt. He switched over to his SHIELD frequency on the headset. “If anyone is listening,” he said, trying to ignore the way his stomach felt like it was dropping out from under him, “this is goodbye.” He cut the wire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanda's comment: "Beautiful, stupid man."
> 
> Run through Google Translate so if anyone catches an error let me know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry.

The sound of a door opening and footsteps across the floor was not enough to put Bucky on guard, but the cold press of a gun muzzle to the back of his head definitely was.

“Get up,” a familiar voice said. “Slowly and carefully. Don’t try anything, or I shoot.”

Turning over slowly and carefully, Bucky raised his hands above his head to show they were completely empty. He shuffled around to put his feet on the floor and sat up.

Clint used one hand to throw a pair of handcuffs at him while the other kept the gun trained on Bucky’s face. “Put these on.”

Bucky snapped the handcuffs around his wrists, and at the sound it felt like his mind clicked back into gear. He was under attack. He was under attack from _Clint_ , who was holding a loaded gun to his head and ordering him to shuffle out the door in nothing but his boxers.

 _Survival first_. Bucky could deal with the existential crisis looming on the horizon later.

Bucky surged upward off the bed. He drove his cuffed hands before him and used the chain to drive the barrel of the gun up and away. Clint’s shot went up somewhere into the ceiling, but Bucky was already moving in to sweep his joined hands at Clint’s head.

Clint blocked the strike with his right hand, which was still holding the gun. Bucky changed grip to grab Clint’s wrist and try to break his hold on the gun. Bucky spun to pull Clint’s arm behind his back into a hold. Clint, still holding the gun, knocked his head back into Bucky’s nose.

Bucky managed to keep hold of Clint’s wrist and keep the gun pointed away, but with his arm still cuffed he couldn’t stop Clint from scrabbling for something with his other hand. He put all his weight into driving Clint stomach-first onto the bed and held him there with a knee to the small of his back.

A pinprick of pain in his thigh was all the warning Bucky got before first his leg and then the rest of him went numb. He slumped down on top of Clint, who wriggled free and holstered his gun before grabbing Bucky in a fireman’s carry and taking him out the door.

The hallway beyond was empty, and the doors leading to the other bedrooms were all open and empty. Not that Bucky could call for help even if someone had been around. That did lead to the question of where everyone else actually was. They were probably wherever Bucky was being taken. Or they were all dead. Fuck. What if Clint had killed everyone else? He and Sam were the only ones who really knew how to pilot the ship, and Jan was the only one who could keep it running. What if they got lost in space, what if they all froze out here--

Focus! Bucky turned his mind to the task at hand. He still had no feeling in any of his limbs, though at least he could think, so it was just an immobilizing agent. And Clint hadn’t shot him in his sleep, which mean he had an interest in taking at least Bucky alive. No reason that shouldn’t apply to everyone else, too.

Clint carried Bucky down to the hold and over to the center of the room. He slid Bucky off his back and positioned him up against a pillar. Bucky’s head lolled to the side, and he saw Sam sitting with his hands chained over his head. _That’s two of us still alive, at least_ , Bucky thought.

Clint pulled Bucky’s hands up and chained them up, too. Sam’s chain jostled as he did so, and Bucky realized that they were actually chained together, with the long piece of chain probably hooked over a beam or pipe above. Bucky also felt Clint cuffing his feet together.

Then Clint’s hand slid down to Bucky’s thigh and began to slip under the leg of his boxers.

“Woah, hey, we don’t need to see that!” Sam said, apparently either not drugged or been here long enough for any immobilization to wear off.

Clint removed the knife Bucky had strapped to his thigh. Then he pulled out his toolkit and began to open up the plates in Bucky's arm. Bucky watched with horror as Clint used the knife to cut through a handful of wires, completely immobilizing the arm. Then Clint stuffed the knife in his own pocket. His icy blue eyes met Bucky’s for a second before he stood and left, locking the door to the hold behind him.

Once he was gone, Sam let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, so. That’s all of us, then,” he said. “Though who knew Barton would win in a fight against Barnes.”

Bucky wanted to protest, but honestly, he was the one sitting here in his underwear while Clint had taken everyone on the ship hostage.

“Bucky? Are you okay?” Jan asked from his other side.

“I think Clint drugged him,” Sam said. “He’ll probably burn through the stuff faster than your average bear, but he’s not going to be much good for conversation yet.”

“Right. So. Bucky immobilized, Wanda unconscious, and you with a bloody nose,” Jan reported.

“That’s stopped now,” Sam said. “Bastard caught me in the face,” he explained to Bucky, “then he cuffed me while I was still in shock and frog-marched me down here.”

“Grabbed me in the engine room,” Jan offered. “Never even saw him coming. We think he did something similar to Wanda, though he knocked her out with something more permanent.”

“Which makes sense,” Sam said. “Hard to tie up a telekinetic ability.”

Bucky groaned. He tried flexing his fingers, but they still weren’t responding. He was able to turn his head, though, and tried to talk. “Uff meh?”

“See, look at that, wearing off already,” Jan chirped. “Soon you’ll be up and running and we can focus on how to get out of here.”

“Jan, the cameras,” Sam hissed.

“They don’t capture audio,” Bucky said, or tried to say. He actually managed something more along the lines of “Eh ohn catcha ah-ee-oh.”

“Right, what he said,” Jan replied. “No audio.”

“All right, well, on to my next question then.” Sam shuffled, and Bucky turned his head back to look at him. “How the hell did Barton know you had a knife in your underwear?”

Bucky groaned and turned away again.

“Skipping that one, anyone have ideas on how to get out of here?” Jan asked.

Sam grumbled under his breath. “Or how we missed Clint being the mole?”

Bucky squeezed his eyes closed. He concentrated on opening and closing his fist, then on gaining motion in his legs. He focused on that, because otherwise he’d have to think about how in the world he had been duped so spectacularly.

Where had the deception even begun? Bucky had only met Clint a year ago, but Steve and Natasha had known him for longer and swore up and down that he was a good guy. The kind of good guy who showed up hours late to game night because he’d found out that his neighbor was having trouble making rent so he’d gone out to sell off his bike so she could have enough money. The kind of guy who rescued a dog from bleeding out in the street and kept it forever. The kind of guy who saw that someone was hurting and always, absolutely always, was there to help.

Even these past few weeks, Clint had been his usual self. A little clumsy, but always trying to help his teammates. He was concerned about the missing team and excited to spend time with everyone and awkward and anxious. A totally different person from the man who had made Bucky get up in the middle of the night and forced him down into the hold.

Bucky worked his mouth a few times until he felt confident in his ability to speak at least mostly clearly. “Who was the first person he...he took hostage?” he asked slowly.

“That’d be me,” Sam said. “I was in the cockpit, and I heard a weird distress call coming in. I went to get Clint to ask him to check on it, and as soon as he listened to it he turned and decked me. Then he forced me down here.”

“Something’s not right,” Bucky muttered. “This doesn’t feel right.”

Sam scoffed. “I’m going to be honest, man, there’s a lot of things that are really not right about this situation.”

“No, there’s...there’s something off with Clint. I mean, I love the guy, but he is not that good an actor. Unless he’s been playing me way better than I ever thought he could.”

The silence in the hold after that was a little deafening. Bucky turned his head to look at Sam, then Jan. “What?”

“You love him?” Sam asked.

“Wh--? Oh. Shit.”

“I would like to take this moment,” Jan said, “for us all to recognize that I actually did manage to keep a secret. In your face, Logan!”

Bucky sighed. “It’s...complicated,” he told Sam.

“Hey, no, I get it,” Sam said. “I mean, I obviously don’t really get it, because I was pretty sure that whole sexual-tension-masked-as-hatred thing was fake and also an incredibly unhealthy basis for a long-term relationship, but, you know. Guess this explains the knife, though. I mean, I honestly prefer open conversation and mutual respect, but whatever floats your boat.”

“That’s not it,” Bucky growled. That had maybe been the case at the beginning, when he’d first been brought back and deprogrammed. Everyone was tip-toeing around him like a grenade about to go off, and then there was Clint. He’d come by, shoved a finger in Bucky’s chest, and told him off for beating his high score at the range. It was the first normal thing that had happened to him, and he clung to it like a lifeline in a storm.

Steve had been distraught by the whole thing, of course. He liked Clint, and it bothered him that his friends didn’t all get along. Natasha seemed to get it, though. She’d seen the two of them shouting at each other on the range and in the halls, and she’d just smiled. Which made sense, really. Clint had said that Natasha’s love language was violence, so she must have seen what was coming long before Bucky had.

It had certainly felt spur of the moment, that day they were shouting each other down in an empty conference room and then suddenly kissing. But maybe they’d always been circling each other, drawing in to that point.

Maybe Clint had been drawing him in. Leading him like a horse to water, and he’d guzzled it all right up. Maybe Natasha was in on it, too, and had been the one to turn against the other team. Maybe that was why they’d been kidnapped.

“How it happened isn’t the point,” Jan interjected. “We all need to focus on getting out of here.”

Sam pulled on the chains. “There’s not any give here. Anyone have a way to pick the locks, or can break through this stuff?”

Bucky huffed and looked up at his hands. “Figures the one time we need a lockpick, he’s fighting for the other team.” He strained at the chains, but nothing happened. “If we had something to bash it with, maybe, but I can’t get out. Jan?”

“Even if I still had my tools,” she said, “which I don’t, because he took them, I wouldn’t be able to reach to do anything.”

“Okay, so we’re stuck here for now. But he can’t keep us here forever,” Bucky reasoned.

“So what, we go for the bathroom break trick?” Sam asked. “Or wait until we get to wherever he’s taking us and we’re surrounded by goons?”

“I don’t like it either, but unless someone else has any ideas…” Bucky waited, but neither Sam nor Jan spoke up. “Then I don’t know that we have much of a choice.”

“Even just something to wake up Wanda,” Jan bemoaned. “Even if she couldn’t get the locks herself, she could probably get one of these crates opened and see if there was anything useful.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah right. These are probably all just full of Watt-o-Bars. Honestly, that should’ve been our first big tip-off. How could someone eat those things and not be evil?”

“They remind him of his brother,” Bucky snarled. Once he realized that he’d just defended Clint again, though, he snapped his mouth shut and went back to brooding.

“As in...the brother that shot him and left him for dead?” Jan asked. “Back when Clint was with the Circus of Crime?”

“Okay, honestly, I’m beginning to wonder how we didn’t see this one,” Sam said. “Plus all the stuff with the invasion--”

“You shut the fuck up,” Bucky growled. “He was brainwashed. He didn’t know--”

“Was he?” Sam challenged. “Or was he always against us, and he just used that as an excuse to be able to come back and finish whatever his long con was?”

And that pulled Bucky up short again. Was Sam right? Had the whole thing been more of the ploy to get on the side of the Avengers, to get on Bucky’s side? After all, while they didn’t talk much about the brainwashing, it was something else that tied them together. Another point of similarity that Bucky could point to about how Clint could understand him in ways that other people couldn’t.

But what if all that was fake?

Bucky thought of those nights of bonding. Of sitting on the couch and eating shitty food together because it reminded them both of their kind of shitty childhoods. For Bucky that was growing up in wartime, and for Clint it was being the poor kid of an abusive father, who he didn’t like to talk about except in hushed whispers, as though the man might come walking back through the door if he heard his name said too loudly.

Bucky remembered talking, first in little snippets and then in hours-long conversations, about their fears and concerns and hopes for the future. About how Steve was going on mission and might not come home. About how they expected to do the same someday. About how they feared being taken out of themselves again.

Clint had always shuddered when he spoke of those few days he’d spent under the control of Loki’s scepter. He’d rubbed his arms and curled in close to himself like he was cold. And when something was just the wrong shade of blue, he’d shiver and shake apart until someone could wrap their arms around him and remind him he was okay.

That bright, icy blue…

“So why do all that?” Jan asked. “The whole thing was to bring us here? All those years pretending to be with SHIELD, just to get us to here?”

“Hydra did it,” Sam said with a shrug. “Had people in covert for years until they were ready to let the pin drop. People no one had suspected suddenly turned on their friends and shot them in the back. No reason to think this is any different.”

“Sam, you said there was a distress signal, and that set Clint off, right?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah. Must’ve been some code words giving him the signal to take over.”

“What was the code?” Jan asked.

“Something about strength and weakness? Hold up, uh.” Sam frowned in thought for a moment. “‘The heart is strong but the mind is weak.’ I think. Something like that, anyway.”

You have heart. “When Clint was taken before,” Bucky began slowly, “wasn’t it with some special mind thing? The mind stone?”

“So?”

“Bucky,” Jan said gently, “it’s just on this ship. The mind stone has been lost for months, and it’s definitely not here. I know you want to believe in Clint, but it just doesn’t make sense”

“Even if he had hidden programming? Set to come up at a certain phrase?” Bucky challenged. “It’s--it’s not unheard of.” He at least managed to bite back the confession that would completely undermine their trust in him, that he also was a victim of programming.

“There’s no way we could tell that, though,” Jan said.

“Can’t we? We just spent a month with him in a tiny ship, watching him sing along to every cartoon he could get his hands on. Think about that man, then think about the person who attacked us tonight and tell me something’s not totally different.”

Sam sighed. “I don’t know. Look, I want to trust the guy, I do. That’s just not enough for me.”

After a beat of silence, Bucky turned to Jan. “You, too?”

She chewed her lip for a moment before answering, “Tony showed me the footage, you know. Don’t know how he got his hands on it, didn’t really want to ask. But I saw...you know. When Loki was there. I mean, there’s not much to see on the screens. It’s all from a distance. But before Loki showed up, you could see Clint was tense, but he was still there. Keeping a lookout on everything and talking to Fury. Then once he was hit by the scepter, everything about him changed. He stood differently, and he stopped watching his exits. Stopped caring about what would happen to him.”

“Natasha said his eyes changed color,” Bucky murmured. “They turned icy blue. He stopped eating and sleeping, and his reaction time slowed, just a little. Like he was fighting every move.”

Sam said, “That’s a hell of a theory, and honestly, I hope you’re right. But we have no way to test it out, and even if you are right, our situation is still the same. We’re being taken hostage by someone who is planning on doing something that I’m willing to bet we won’t be particularly fond of.”

“It means we’re fighting a friend,” Jan argued. “If this was the real Clint and everything else was an act, we attack him no holds barred. If this is brainwashed Clint--”

“Then not only do we have to worry about saving us, we’ve also gotta save his sorry ass.” Sam’s head thunked back against the pillar. “Typical. So what’s the plan?”

“Cognitive recalibration,” Bucky said. “Hit him really hard in the head if you get a chance. It’s what brought him back last time.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Sam asked.

“Or if we get there before we get the chance?” Jan added.

“Our best shot will probably be when they move us. Especially if Wanda is awake by then.”

Jan nodded. “We should also try to get a signal out if we can. There may be others out here who can help us.”

“And if these are the same guys who kidnapped everyone else, that’s six more people who can help us once we get there,” Sam said.

“If they’re there,” Bucky replied. “And if they’re in any shape to help us, since they haven’t been able to break out on their own.”

“But they didn’t have us before. With all of us together, I’m sure we’ll come up with something,” Jan said, rather optimistically in Bucky’s opinion.

He turned to look up at the hold doors. “Maybe.” Even if the other team was there and was able to help, that still left Clint. Bucky took a deep breath and settled into himself, letting the calm that he’d come to associate with long missions and cold nights come up and take over.

No matter what else happened, he swore to himself, he was going to rescue Clint. And then together they would tear apart the people who had done this.

At the thought, the hold door slid open again. Bucky looked up expectantly, hoping to see the coldness cleared from Clint’s expression and him running to their aid. Instead, he saw Clint with his bow and an arrow with a bulbous head.

“Clint,” Bucky said, pulling at the restraints. “Clint, don’t do this. It’s us! Clint, it’s me!”

Without making any sign that he’d heard, Clint drew back his bow, took aim, and released. The arrow struck the pillar and burst on impact, releasing a noxious cloud of gas. Jan and Sam began to shout at Clint. Bucky merely locked eyes with him for as long as he could before he passed out from the fumes.


	8. Chapter 8

Bucky counted the rivets on the support beam above his head for the hundredth time. There were still 83. Why 83? That was such a random number, why not something even, or something that showed an even disbursement? If he were building a ship, he’d do it properly, putting in a reasonable number of rivets.

“Hey,” Sam said, nudging Bucky with his foot, “I gotta use the can.”

Bucky raised his arms (well, raised one arm, the other just went along with it) up above his head and scooted up to sit against the pole. Sam pulled on the tether between them, looped over a beam above their heads, and scooted over toward the covered bucket they all had been sharing for the past few days. Well, everyone except Wanda, who was still unconscious from whatever sedative Clint added to her IV every few hours. Bucky politely looked away and tried to listen for anything else in the room.

Jan was tapping on her knee again. Fingers danced up and down and up again while she looked around the room. She took a deep breath. “I can’t believe he--”

 _Won’t give us coffee._ Bucky felt the sentence reverberate through his memory more than he heard it out loud. She would continually be thinking of new ideas for escape, for outfits, for games they could play, but at least once an hour, as if by rote, Jan would bemoan the lack of coffee.

“What if we all played--”

“I’m vetoing ‘I Spy,’” Sam said, finishing up with the bucket. He sealed the lid again and scooted back toward the pillar so Bucky could drop his bound hands back down to his lap. “Even if it weren’t boring on its own, we have already spied everything in this room.”

“And none of it useful,” Jan said with a deep sigh.

Bucky’s stomach rumbled loudly. He did his best to ignore it.

“Barnes,” Sam said, “Come on, man. You’ve gotta eat.”

“I dunno, I’m about ready to join his boycott,” Jan said. She kicked the crate of Watt-o-Bars by her foot. “Claiming that stuff is food is incredibly generous.”

“We all have to keep our strength up,” Sam argued. “Who knows when we’ll get a chance to break out. And what would we do if we were too tired and hungry to strike?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky growled.

“Ooh,” Jan said, “I bet it’s that super soldier stuff they pumped into you, right? Means you can go for longer without food and still be okay.”

Sam scoffed. “I’m guessing you haven’t actually spent much time with Steve Rogers, then? That man needs to eat his own weight every day or he’s completely useless. It takes a lot of energy to keep operating the way he does.”

“Sure, but we’re not operating right now, are we? We’re essentially in stake-out mode, just waiting and not wasting any energy. Right, Bucky? See, look, he barely even moves. You’re barely using any energy, aren’t you?”

_79...80...81…_

“Is that better, you think?” Sam asked quietly. “To just shut down and wait?”

_83._

“It’s not better,” Bucky said. He raised his right shoulder in a shrug. “It just is.”

If he thought about it, Bucky would probably be afraid of how quickly he slipped back into this mindset. Just let himself settle back down into waiting to strike, waiting to be told what to do. It wasn’t necessarily something he’d learned as the brainwashed Winter Soldier, but he’d definitely learned it as a _soldier_. Most people didn’t just have the ability to shut down and wait.

Clint had it, sometimes. _Sniper brain_ , he sometimes called it. The ability to sit in a perch for hours on end with nothing to entertain yourself and a need to stay perfectly still and quiet. Clint fought against it, though. He was a strange juxtaposition, a performer turned assassin turned superhero, and the balance of silent lookout and bright distraction was a constant balancing act for him.

It had gotten worse, after...well. Being forced into sniper brain and made to attack his friends had left Clint desperate to shake out of that mindset. He was determined to be loud and present. Bad jokes, terrible outfit choices, and worse eating habits all combined to bring back the performer, someone who was happy to be the butt of the joke so long as he was bringing happiness to his friends.

He’d shared it all with Bucky one late night, tracing patterns onto Bucky’s chest and whispering into the darkness. He’d left his hearing aids off. Maybe if he didn’t hear the words, they didn’t count. Bucky didn’t pretend to know everything that went through Clint’s head. Most of it didn’t make much sense. Not that Bucky’s brain made much sense, either.

“How much farther do you think it is?” Jan asked.

“It doesn’t matter how many times you ask that question,” Sam said, “I still will not know the answer.”

“Okay, but if you had to guess. You remember where we were before we got caught, right? How far were we from anything?”

Sam huffed. “We were in the middle of absolutely nowhere, so really fucking far. Two weeks out from Hunong? It was another two to Ibar, if we even were to continue heading there. If we were heading to the source of whatever distress signal caused all this mess, it depends on what was sending the signal. A big ship could have the systems to broadcast far enough that it would take days to reach.”

“It’s been four days,” Jan said. “Figure that’s long enough? Should we be starting to expect something?”

“Three days, eighteen hours, twenty-eight minutes…” Bucky intoned. Not wanting to see the others looking at him, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the pillar. The clock at the back of his mind continued to tick up the time.

“Uh...yeah, theoretically,” Sam said. “Pretty big ship, though, if it’s reaching four days out. Which means a lot of bad guys to fight our way through to get out. Which, seeing how well we’ve done against one guy on a small ship, I have really high hopes for us.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Jan said. “Your sarcasm is really appreciated here.”

“I’m just saying.”

Bucky looked up again at the beam. _1...2...3…_

 

* * *

 

“Sam!” Jan hissed. “Bucky! Wake up! Something’s happening!”

Bucky turned his head wearily over toward Jan. His gaze fell immediately on the shaft of light coming in from the upper porthole on her side of the ship. Possibly them passing by a nearby star, but maybe…

“I think it’s another ship! I think we’re landing. Bucky, quick, how long has it been?”

“Five days, six hours, thirteen minutes,” he responded.

“Sam, where does that put us?”

Sam groaned and pulled on the tether, probably wiping his face. “Fuck if I know. Who knows if we changed course. We’re five days and six hours from where we were before, in some direction. So, you know. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere.”

“Any idea which nowhere?” Bucky asked.

“Not really. Somewhere between Hunong and Ibar, probably.”

Bucky closed his eyes tight. “Nearest system?”

“Probably Bakavia. Why?”

Jan swore under her breath. “It’s them, isn’t it, Bucky?” she asked quietly.

He took in a deep shuddering breath. The ship seemed to shudder with him, and it took a moment for him to realize that it was the sensation of the ship coming in to land, docking against the larger ship.

“Fuck,” Sam said. “It’s--”

Bucky nodded. “Hydra.”

 

* * *

 

It took another hour and eight minutes before the door to the hold opened and a squad of Hydra goons came into the room, all with guns at the ready. Bucky, Sam, and Jan had all struggled to their feet and waited with heads held high.

A bald man wearing a (completely over the top) monocle came into the room, Clint at his heels. The man marched with his hands behind his back and came to a stop in the middle of the room. Clint hovered nearby, falling into parade rest and standing completely motionless.

“Uh,” Jan said nervously, “isn’t the villain supposed to have a big moustache to twirl evilly?”

“Silence, girl!” the man barked.

“Oh nevermind, he’s got a ridiculous accent, we’re fine.”

“Jan,” Sam hissed, “not the time.”

Bucky squinted at the man. He didn’t seem familiar, which didn’t always mean that much when it came to Bucky’s memory. But if he had to bet, this guy had never actually interacted with the Winter Soldier. Bucky forced himself not to clutch at his left arm but to stand casually. He pulled out what Steve had always called his “murder eyes” (and Clint had called his “killer kitten” eyes) and turned the glare on full force.

“I’m sure you are all wondering what you are doing here,” the man began with a smirk.

“Not really,” Sam said. “Kidnapping the heroes seems pretty typical for a supervillain.”

“Ha!” the man said. “That you think you are all the heroes in this story...it is, let us say, cute.”

Bucky growled and narrowed his eyes further.

“Uh, okay, so, I get that this is supposed to be threatening and everything,” Jan said, “but uh, who exactly are you? I’m having trouble being afraid of someone I’ve never even heard of.”

Bucky didn’t bother to mention that it was often the people you’d never heard of who were the most dangerous. Jan probably knew that anyway and was trying to goad the man into giving up useful information.

Sure enough, the man grinned and threw his hands out wide. “I am the great Baron Strucker!” he announced. At the complete lack of response, he frowned and began to pace in front of the group. “After the fall of my predecessor, I rose up to take my place as leader of Hydra. When one head is cut off, after all, two more shall rise to take its place.”

Sam frowned and leaned in to Bucky and stage-whispered, “I know eating those watt-o-bars probably screwed with my head a bit, but there’s only one of him, right?”

“Do not worry,” Strucker said, “you shall meet my partner very shortly.”

“You mean it’s not Clint?” Jan asked. Bucky stiffened beside her, his eyes tracking over to Clint involuntarily.

Strucker laughed. “Ha! That stooge?” He waved at Clint, who still didn’t move. “He was barely worth the honor of being a part of SHIELD, much less a member of Hydra.” He spat onto the ground at Clint’s feet. “No, he is simply a convenient tool. Much as you shall be.”

Bucky could’ve collapsed with the relief he felt, but he forced himself to keep as still as possible. They certainly weren’t out of the woods, but at least Clint wasn’t Hydra. He hadn’t betrayed them of his own will.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jan demanded.

“If you think you’re going to make us work for you,” Sam said, “you’ve got another thing coming.”

“I do not think you understand the gravity of the situation you are currently in.”

Gods, Bucky just wanted to punch Strucker’s smug, stupid face. Crush that stupid monocle to the ground and beat him up for daring to tamper with his team, with his _boyfriend_.

“Let us consider,” Strucker continued, “the actual predicament in which you find yourselves. To begin, everything about your mission was completely falsified.”

“Yeah, we got the whole Hunong misdirect,” Jan said.

Strucker laughed again. “Hunong, my child? The entire thing was a farce. Your friends and family are not lost. They never were.”

Bucky’s mind blanked. Steve, Natasha, Tony...they were all safe?

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“Three months ago, we apprehended a small mission sent to wipe out a minor crime lord in the Ibar system. Aboard the ship was one Clint Barton, who was quickly subdued. His past experience with the mind stone made him particularly susceptible to new programming. My compatriots gave him instructions to complete his mission and return home. He was given a hard drive and told to install it in an android, which then provided the mission details. He even sent the coded message meant to be from Tony Stark.”

“Shit,” Jan muttered. “I knew something looked off about that.”

“With the urgency of the situation and the trusted sources providing everything for you, from mission details to a ship already set to send us reports of your location and progress, you departed immediately, following the bread crumb perfectly back to us here.”

“So Clint was out of it the whole time,” Sam said. “Nothing we saw was real?”

“Of course not. We couldn’t risk you suspecting him. Once he had completed his task of installing the hard drive, he returned to normal. His brain filled in memories of his mission so that he would be just as oblivious as any of you if questioned.”

“What did you do to him?” Bucky demanded.

“Ah, the soldier speaks.” Strucker turned to Bucky with a grin. “You and I have a lot to catch up on.”

“It was on Hunong, wasn’t it?” Sam asked. “We got separated.”

“As bright as promised,” Strucker said. “Indeed, we triggered another piece of Barton’s programming at the station. All that was left was to activate him.”

“So what?” Jan asked. “So you’ve got us here. Big deal. According to you, we’re just the second-rate heroes anyway.”

“Mmm, I suppose you’re right.” Strucker inspected his fingers in an attempt to act nonchalant. Then he grinned at them. “Though, if you were all so ready to come running to save your friends, I have to wonder what they might do if you were in danger.”

Bucky’s heart sank. He knew his friends. Fuck, he knew _Steve_. Even if all the others had a decent enough head on their shoulders to spot this as a trap, his best friend was bullheaded enough to come charging in all by himself.

“Stark and his team are in fact searching for an item that we have a particular interest in. We feel that our goal would be best attained by...joining forces. And now we have the collateral to make it happen.”

“It won’t work,” Jan said. “Even if they do come for us, they’re not just going to drop everything to work for you.”

“Even when your lives are at stake?” Strucker raised an eyebrow, but Jan remained defiant, her eyes boring into him. “Well, then I suppose there’s always this.”

Strucker held out his hand, and one of the lackeys that Bucky hadn’t been paying much attention to pulled a long, shining scepter from behind his back. The blue gem set at its head left him shivering. It was the same icy blue as Clint’s eyes.

“Ah, it looks like our soldier already recognizes this.” Strucker ran his hands reverently along the scepter. “You see, your friends will have no choice but to help me. Just as you all will have no choice.”

A small moan came from Bucky’s feet, and he looked down to see Wanda’s eyes fluttering. “What…?” she managed to croak before a man in a white coat was surging forward from the crowd.

Sam went to lunge at the man, but Bucky quickly grabbed his wrist. When Sam glared at him, Bucky pointed with his chin at the guns still pointed on them. He let go and Sam slumped but stayed put while the man injected something into Wanda’s arm. Surprisingly, she didn’t immediately fall back asleep, just winced at the pain.

“What was that?” Jan asked. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing permanent,” Strucker said. “It’s a concoction of my own invention. It will block her telepathic abilities. I figured you would all be grateful to have her awake at all. You should be thanking me.”

“Oh, sorry, you’ll have to forgive us,” Sam said, “We all left our manners behind when we were kidnapped.”

Bucky crouched slowly and reached out to place his right hand on Wanda’s shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asked, eyes dropping quickly down to meet hers.

She nodded shakily and swallowed a few times. “What--?”

“It’s a long story. We’ve been kidnapped, but Pietro’s safe.”

Fear warred with relief in her eyes. He tried for a smile, but based on her expression it wasn’t really working. “Also, Clint’s been brainwashed again, and you’ve been unconscious for five days.”

At that the fear overwhelmed anything else and she sat up too quickly to look around at the gunmen and Clint standing against the wall. “Clint?” she rasped.

He looked at her coldly. “Shall I escort the prisoners to their cells?” he asked.

“A generous offer, Barton, but since you are not familiar with the station yet let’s leave that to some of the others. I think I would like to get started on the next stage of my plan, actually.” He turned back to the kidnapped heroes. “Now,” Strucker tapped the scepter against his palm. “Which of you would like to join my army?”

Bucky stood immediately and stepped forward, placing himself in front of the others. The guns in the room shifted toward him at the sudden movement. He stopped moving but didn’t step back. “You’re not hurting any of them,” he said coldly.

He didn’t miss, either, how Clint had stepped forward as all the guns shifted, his hand half-raised before he shifted back into place. It was the first unintentional movement he’d made since coming into the room, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel encouraged by it in spite of their scenario.

“Look at that,” Strucker said, “our first volunteer. Well, Mister Barnes.” He stepped forward and placed the tip of the scepter on Bucky’s chest. “I think that we shall have some fun together, don’t you?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm a little sorry.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut against the expected blue glare. He took a moment to be grateful his left arm was already out of commission--any advantage he could give his friends before he turned against them was a good thing. But the expected flare of control entering his mind never happened.

He squinted down at his chest, where the tip of the scepter still rested. Then he traced the weapon up and back, along the hand and arm holding it to the face of Baron Strucker. Instead of finding surprise there, Strucker was smiling.

“Gentlemen,” he called back to his team of lackeys, “please escort the prisoners to their cells.” He pulled the scepter away and stepped back. “All of them.”

Bucky didn’t resist as two men came up to grab him by the arms. There were too many people, and with everyone still cuffed and the threat of the scepter, plus whatever they were doing to Clint...he decided it was better to bide his time for now. They began to haul him away with the others, who also went quietly for the most part. Jan kept looking around at everything and getting scolded for it, and Sam made a remark about the Hydra uniform choices, but otherwise they all went peacefully down to the lower deck and a room lined with cells.

They placed Wanda in a cell first, then Bucky right next to her. Sam ended up across the hall from Wanda, and Jan across from Bucky. The back wall and two side walls of the cell were metal, with a shelf bolted into the back for a bed. Once entering the cell, a soft schick marked a clear wall coming down to block off the front. The wall settled, cutting off all noise from outside the cell.

“I hope you find your new accomodations amenable.” Bucky took a moment to place where the voice was coming from - an intercom set by the front wall. He glared at it, since Strucker seemed content to stay out of the range of vision while speaking directly to the cell. “Please, everyone, smile for the camera.”

Bucky purposefully ignored the camera he’d spotted in the corner of the cell. Across the way, he saw Jan shouting something, though he couldn’t hear what she was saying. By stepping into the corner of the cell, he could just see Sam also having a shouting match with the intercom.

“Please know that if you do attempt to damage these cameras in any way, retribution will be swift and painful.”

Footage to show Steve and the others, Bucky reasoned. They needed proof that everyone was still alive to send to the others, who would actually ask for that kind of evidence before running off on a hare-brained chase across the universe. Though there were no promises they’d all stay in good health once Hydra had enough footage.

“You are, I am sure, familiar with the basic rules in this scenario,” Strucker continued. “Any attempt at heroics will be duly punished, don’t even think of trying to escape, et cetera, et cetera.”

His condescending tone made Bucky want to punch him in the face. And then he’d continue pummeling him into the ground for everything else he’d done. He reached around to clutch at his left arm as an outlet, instead.

“My colleague should be here in a few days. Once she has arrived, we shall progress with the next step. Until then, I hope that you all find your accommodations...comfortable. Try to enjoy it, at least while you can.”

Forget punching him in the face. Bucky was going to kick him in the groin and drown him in white wine. Or stick him in an airlock and open the bay door. Maybe shoot his dick off before planting a bullet between his eyes.

Steve would probably say something about how unhealthy it was that Bucky calmed down by imagining different ways to kill someone. Natasha would get it, though. And so would Clint. Well, maybe that’s why Steve was the big famous Captain and the rest of them were just background heroes.

Bucky paced out his cell to get a feel for it. Six paces wide by five deep, with the bed in the center back. A toilet in the back corner with a tiny sink next to it finished off the cell, aside from a few small vents at the top of the ten-foot wall and a low hatch in the back wall on the opposite side of the bed from the toilet. It didn’t pull open when he tugged, but Bucky guesed that was the food hatch.

Once he’d searched over his own quarters, taking note of the single camera in the back corner, he came up near the front clear wall, in view of both Jan’s cell and part of Sam’s. He waited until Jan was turned his direction, then nodded toward her.

She opened her mouth and seemed to be talking, but Clint was the only one who could read lips even somewhat reliably. Bucky just shook his head. He then pantomimed taking a photograph with an old-school camera, looking through the viewfinder and pressing a finger to take the image. Then he pointed to the camera in his room, pointed to Jan, and shrugged.

She caught on quick and pointed at her own camera, in a mirrored corner to where Bucky’s was. Bucky grinned. They had been sloppy. He crouched down low and dropped his hands between his legs so that his hands wouldn’t be visible to the camera. Then he carefully finger-spelled “W-A-N-D-A” and nodded toward her cell with a question in his eyes.

Jan’s eyes lit up and she copied Bucky’s pose, dropping down and holding her hands between bent knees. “O-K,” she signed back. “M-A-D.”

Bucky smirked. “I’ll bet,” he muttered to himself. He pointed in Wanda’s direction again and signed “A-S-L,” giving her a confused look to convey that it was a question.

Jan held up a finger, then rose and started waving. She walked Wanda through the same steps, asking where the camera was and making sure she was out of the sightlines before asking something that Bucky couldn’t quite see from his angle. Then Jan turned back to him and nodded. A few minutes later and Sam shuffled into the far corner of his cell where Bucky could see him. He raised his hand and tottered it back and forth, then gave a thumbs-up.

Wanda and Jan, then, knew some basic signs, and Sam probably knew enough of the alphabet to get by. It would be slow, but they could make this work. And as long as they kept it off camera, it was a way for them to talk without anyone knowing what they were all saying.

Jan immediately began to rattle off ideas to Bucky and Wanda, who relayed it on to Sam as best they could. She had apparently been thinking of things since their captivity on the ship, and she even had something under way, if they could just hold on long enough.

Sam struggled through the spelling, but he offered assurances to everyone. Bucky was sure that in a few days, once he was more practiced with the spelling, he’d be back to his normal sarcastic self.

Wanda even passed along a message for Bucky, saying she was glad he was doing well and asking how he was holding up with everything going on with Clint. Bucky glared at both Jan and Sam, but they both held up their hands and swore they hadn’t told. Wanda, through Jan, said that she had always known, and did they think she was blind? Bucky, feeling only a little embarrassed, said that he was worried about Clint but doing okay. She promised to find whoever did this and destroy them. Bucky decided that he still very much liked Wanda.

The reminder that he wasn’t alone in any of this, that he was still here with friends, was a relief he only let himself feel in this moment. Sure, they were all locked in secure prison cells and likely to be tortured or brainwashed soon. And sure, his boyfriend was brainwashed and marching around looking to kill anyone who got in his way. Then, of course, there was Steve ‘I-Don’t-Back-Down-From-A-Fight’ Rogers hurtling through the universe to his rescue and straight into a trap. So yeah, there were a lot of things going wrong. But he was also here with some of the smartest and most impressive people he knew.

He let himself hope, for just a moment, that everything would turn out all right.

 

* * *

 

Three days, six hours, and nine minutes into their imprisonment, Bucky squinted at the top of the clear wall dividing his cell from the hallway.

“ _It’s getting darker_ ,” he signed to Jan.

She hopped off her bed and frowned up at where Bucky was looking, then over to Wanda next to him. “ _Only yours_ ,” she signed back. “ _Can you see Sam?_ ”

Bucky ducked to look under the darkness creeping down his wall. He looked from Sam’s cell to Jan’s. “ _You and Sam look the same. Not darker_.”

Jan nodded. Her brow furrowed. “ _Why?_ ” she asked.

Bucky remembered standing before Strucker, the scepter resting on his chest. He closed his eyes and repressed a shiver. “ _I think it’s starting._ ”

Her eyes went wide, first in surprise and then sympathy. “ _Be strong. You’ll get through this._ ”

He nodded and went to the slab that functioned as his bed. Whatever they were going to do to him, he’d need as much strength as possible to resist.

When he woke several hours later for the twice-daily food delivery, the whole wall was considerably darker. He could still see both Jan and Sam looking at him, but they still seemed mostly worried about him rather than themselves or Wanda, so whatever Hydra was doing was only happening to him so far. He briefly considered why they might be targeting him but soon gave up in favor of eating and settling his mind.

The cell continued to grow darker. Bucky talked to Jan and Sam until it was too dark for them to read him, then he slept again. When he woke, it was pitch black in the room. He stretched his right arm up in front of his face and thought he saw it, though logically he knew it was just a phantom image. Even super serum vision couldn’t see anything in complete darkness.

Isolation, then, was their first attack. And a good one. A few days in complete darkness would dramatically impact his vision, and no human contact would leave him anxious and easily manipulated. Even as he sat, logically trying to think through the technique, his right hand began to tap out a rhythm on his leg just to give him some extra stimulation.

Apparently getting all the sleep earlier had been a mistake. Bucky was wide awake, stuck staring off into the darkness. He closed his eyes to avoid trying to strain them and let his head fall back against the wall behind him for a reassurance of something still being stable in the world.

Internally, he started a new timer. Three minutes and eighteen seconds since total darkness.

 

* * *

 

At the fifteen hours and sixteen minutes mark, right at the usual time as far as Bucky could tell, the slot for his food flipped open and something scraped inside. He paused in the middle of doing his push-ups and went over to where he remembered the slot being.

Once he’d finished eating, he pushed the tray away and went back to his bed to try to get some sleep again.

As he laid down on the bed and pulled the thin blanket over himself, a loud horn sounded from the intercom, suddenly and piercingly breaking the silence. Bucky shot up in bed and turned to see what was happening, but no other changes happened. Cautiously, he laid back down.

The horn blared once again, and continued to sound until he sat up.

“Do I get to sleep only at the time you want me to, or not at all?” he asked the air. There was no response.

“Oh good,” he muttered. “Isolation and sleep deprivation.” He was grateful they hadn’t taken away his food. Yet.

 

* * *

 

The first hallucination came around the forty-six hour mark. At least he hoped it was a hallucination. Because if Hydra had somehow managed to get their hands on a soundbyte of Steve screaming for him as he was blown off the ship during the war, he was royally fucked. Though, in all reality, it wasn’t that much better knowing it was just a hallucination he heard repeating itself, over and over.

He clamped his arm over his head, trying to use it to block both ears. It didn’t help.

Eventually he just laid down, because the blaring horn was better than anything his own brain was starting to conjure up.

 

* * *

 

They’d started dropping the temperature, at some point. Maybe at the very beginning, who the fuck knew. One degree change every few hours, how was he supposed to notice?

What he did notice was that he was shivering, the thin blanket tugged around his shoulders but not doing any good. He couldn’t feel his arm. He went to rub it with his other hand and pulled back with a hiss at the feel of torn-up metal.

Oh. Right.

It had been cold when he lost the arm the first time, too, though not this dark. He can barely see his hand in front of his face.

_“Put him on ice,” someone commands. Fifty someones, all speaking at once. “Wipe him and start over.”_

A low keening filled the room. Bucky thought it might be from him. He tried to sink further away from the sounds and into unconsciousness. He figured he could probably ignore the horn if he managed to go straight past sleep into blacking out.

The lights flashed on suddenly. Bucky’s eyes flew open--when had they closed?--and he was blinded by the brightness. He screamed at the pain but forced himself to keep his eyes open, trying desperately to focus on something, anything.

He thought he saw a figure standing there. He reached for it, and it reached back to him. He thought it looked like Clint, coming to find him after a battle and smiling despite the blood dripping from his nose. Clint was smiling, and Bucky stretched out as far as he could, almost able to touch him.

The lights blinked out just as quickly as they’d come. Clint disappeared in the darkness. Bucky whimpered and pulled his arm back in tight.

It had been...it had...eighty-nine...eighty-nine hours...he thought. He buried his head in his knees and didn’t care that he was crying.

 

* * *

 

In a brief moment of reprieve from the hallucinations, Bucky was able to think that maybe Clint had been against him all along. After all, who else could be so perfectly tailoring this torture? Who else knew the fear Bucky had of the cold and the dark? Knew that he would notice the cutting back of his rations day by day and start searching for ways to please his master so they might give him just a little more.

Just the thought brings up the face of a man with a line of milk on his lip. _“Eat,” the man orders. “You have earned it. You did good work today, soldier.”_

Bucky came back to the present with a loud gasp. The sound of the horn still echoed in the room. It reminded him of basic training.

_He crawls through the mud, breathing hard, and remains grateful that they never let Steve into the army. It’s bad enough he’s getting into trouble at home. Here he’s just going to get himself killed._

Light. Blinding, burning. He was burning, he was on fire, sweat dripped into his eyes and his arm was melting into his body. He screamed with the pain and tried to pull his arm away. It wouldn’t move, and Steve was staring at him, and it was

dark. Pitch black, with cold air blowing on his skin. Steve was still there, except now he was Clint, and he was smiling. It was a soft smile, a cruel smile. A smile directed not at Bucky but at

_the monster he shoots with an exploding arrow. “Eat lead,” he says._

_Bucky frowns. “Don’t you use a titanium alloy?”_

_Clint rolls his eyes. “It’s an expression. You know, like ‘suck my dick.’ I don’t actually want you to--”_

_“Suck your dick?” Bucky asks. “Pity.”_

_Clint grins. “Well, I mean, if you’re offering…”_

There was a dripping noise coming from somewhere in the room. It had been going on for some time. Maybe something was leaking. Maybe there was water coming into the room, and it was going to flood the room and he’d drown. Bucky had tried to find the water but couldn’t. But reaching up to his face, he felt the drips he’d been searching for. Ice melting on his cheeks, blood dripping…

It had been sixty-eight years, eight months, twelve days, twenty-two hours, twenty-nine minutes…

five days, fifteen hours…

ninety-nine years…

It had been….

 _Light. Steve’s face swam into his vision. “Bucky.” Then it was_ Clint, _sneering, smiling,_ staring at him. _Fucking him. Fighting him._

The swirling memories drifted off like gossamer. In the spotlight in the middle of the room, a young girl with bright red hair twirls on one foot. She fights with the grace of a dancer, light as a bird and lethal as a knife.

She spins and spins and when she stops she is a woman who watches him with sympathy in her eyes. Her name is Natasha, is Natalia, is unknown.

“It’s a risk to trust people,” she says. “They can hurt you more, even if they don’t mean to.”

The tip of a knife blooms from her heart. The blood soaks her shirt and she falls to the ground. Clint stands in her place, holding the bloody knife. He looks at Bucky with icy blue eyes.

“Do you regret it?” Bucky asks the nameless woman.

Her eyes close. “Do you?”

_Clint stood in front of him with a knife. “Destroy him,” someone ordered. Clint raised the knife slowly._

Steve looms over him. He releases Bucky’s restraints. Bucky reaches for Steve, but he’s falling, and it’s cold and bright and his arm is gone.

It’s been six days, seven hours, and three minutes since he fell from the train, since he killed Howard Stark, since he met Clint Barton, since he was born. Born again, again, again.

_“No!” he shouts as the knife descends to cut off what remains of his arms. “No!”_

“No,” Clint said, dropping the knife.

_“No,” Natasha tells him, still bleeding out._

_“No!” Steve yells, still clinging to the side of the ship and reaching for Bucky._

It’s hot. Cold. Silent. Deafening. Light. Dark. Then. Now. Never. Always.

Everything.

 

 

 

 

 

Nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bucky slammed his head back against the wall. He clutched his head, trying to cover his eyes and ears. Knees pulled to chest, he rocked back and forth on the floor.

He didn’t notice the dropped knife at his feet.


	10. Chapter 10

They stopped. At some point.

Bucky woke up on the ground, his eyelids fluttering open and slamming closed against the bright light in the cell. He forced himself to open them again, and while he waited for his eyes to adjust he realized that he had _woken up_. Which meant they’d let him sleep. Which meant they were done, or at least were changing tactics.

He laid there for a while longer, still exhausted and trying to take stock of his body. Everything ached, and he had bruises and scratches he was pretty sure were self-inflicted.

His eyes finally adjusted and he sat up slowly. The room was bright, but the normal bright, at least as far as he could tell. He looked over and saw the wall was clear again, no longer black. Jan was staring at him, and when he caught her eye she gave him a wide smile that belied the tears in her eyes. She dropped into a crouch and signed to him, “OK?”

He grimaced, then nodded. He didn’t have the energy to sign back to her though, so he simply looked over, hoping she’d read the question on his face anyway.

“ _Eight days_ ,” she signed. “ _Yesterday they told Clint to kill you but he didn’t_.”

He didn’t even have time to process or react to that before Jan jerked back, tracking movement down the hallway beyond Bucky’s line of sight. Stifling a groan, Bucky slid across the floor to put a wall to his back and to angle himself better to watch where Jan was looking. He saw a group of people coming down the corridor, with Strucker in the lead.

Clint flanked Strucker on one side, but Bucky noticed immediately his newly broken nose and the slight limp in his step. Despite that, he still had the same blank expression he’d had the last time Bucky had seen him. Or at least, seen him outside of a potential hallucination.

On Strucker’s other side was a woman Bucky didn’t recognize. She had a perpetual smirk and a glint in her eyes that he didn’t like, and she wore a ring with a bright orange gem that felt at odds with her otherwise austere outfit. Not to mention how everything else she was wearing was green, right down to her lipstick.

The group stopped right in the middle of the four cells, clearly putting on a display. Strucker held a microphone to his mouth, and, with a large grin, began to speak.

Absolutely no sound came through the speakers. Bucky wondered if maybe something had happened to his hearing while he was out of it, but when he looked across the way at Jan she also looked confused.

Strucker paused and looked triumphantly at everyone in the cells, but when he apparently didn’t see the reactions he weas hoping for he frowned and began flicking the microphone. The woman in green rolled her eyes and reached over to take it from him. She turned it over and pressed something on the bottom.

“--helps if you turn it on,” Bucky just caught her say before she passed the microphone back to Strucker.

“I knew that,” Strucker said petulantly. He coughed a little and started again. “Greetings heroes. I hope you have all had a pleasant few weeks. I know that I have.” He grinned and turned to Bucky, who just folded his good arm across his chest and glared.

“We have just received word that your friends are on their way, which means it is time for us to move on to stage two of our operation.”

Behind Strucker, Bucky could see Sam talking, probably asking another smartass question. Which might be the reason they were all in soundproof cells, come to think of it. It was probably hard to get a solid villain monologue going with people contantly harassing you in the middle.

“Now that my compatriot has arrived, we will be progressing with the next part of our plan. Ophelia, would you like to extrapolate?”

The woman in green gave a tight-lipped smile and took the microphone. “Thank you, Wolfgang,” she said before turning to the rest of the group. “You may all refer to me as Madame Hydra. And rather than simply explaining what will be happening, I think it best if I show you.” Her next smile was wide, and showed a few too many teeth. She turned in a circle, looking at each of them in turn.

Bucky saw the moment Madame Hydra’s gaze landed on Wanda and her eyes lit up. She raised her ring and began to hold it out. Bucky also saw the way Clint flinched, just a little, just a hair, away from the ring.

He surged to his feet and slammed his right fist against the clear wall. “Is this supposed to be threatening?” he shouted, hoping that the microphones in the cell might somehow let him be heard outside the cell. “Fuck you, lady, if you think you’re gonna take us down like this.”

Her gaze slid from Wanda over to Bucky. He puffed himself up and tried to look as threatening as possible. He pounded the glass again for good measure and snarled. His right arm reached over to grab at his useless left, pulling it out of view and in tight next to his body.

Madame Hydra’s mouth ticked up in a small smile. “Very well, then.” She flicked her fingers, and the wall Bucky was leaning against began to slide upward. He launched himself out of the cell, but a team of men grabbed his arms and trained a gun on his face. He pulled at their grip but couldn’t break it.

“It seems our good soldier still has some fight in him,” Madame Hydra said. “Let’s see if we can’t put that to good use.” She extended her hand until the ring touched Bucky’s chest.

He took in a deep breath and suddenly sagged in the arms of his captors, no longer fighting any of them. Just as quickly, he rose to his feet. Back ramrod straight, he stood at attention and gazed unseeing down the corridor. Somewhere in his periphery, Jan and Sam were shouting, but that all felt so...distant.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Madame Hydra said. “A stone that helps you find your true purpose. And, in your case, soldier, a path that you have strayed from for too long. But now, I have a mission for you.” She leaned in close. The microphone in her hand stayed up by her mouth so that everyone in the cells could hear. “When you next see Steve Rogers, I want you to bring him to me, dead or alive.”

“Understood,” the soldier replied.

“Beautiful. Thank you, soldier.” Madame Hydra spun and turned to Clint. “And my little archer, what is your job when your friends arrive?”

“I am to bring Natasha Romanoff to you, dead or alive,” Clint responded.

“Perfect. Thank you.” Madame Hydra turned to the others. “Any questions?”

She reached once again for a panel next to Wanda’s cell. A simple four-digit code opened the cell, and all the guns in the room shifted to train on the girl in the back corner of the cell.

The second the attention moved off him, Bucky moved. He swung his arm out to the right first, taking out the man next to him with a punch to the throat. He grabbed that guard’s gun as he dropped, gasping for air. While he got his grip on the gun, he kicked the woman standing to his left into the guard on her far side, knocking them both up against the wall of Jan’s cell. Once his grip on the gun was secure, he spun in a circle, taking quick shots to kneecap as many soldiers as he could before lurching over to Jan’s cell.

He had to loose a finger to punch in the code on her keypad, losing precious seconds as those around him got over their shock, but fortunately the code that had opened Wanda’s cell also worked on Jan’s. Lazy and unprofessional, but Bucky wasn’t going to complain.

Bucky didn’t wait for Jan’s cell to fully open before he turned back to the fight. Wanda had come out of her cell swinging, and she was locked in hand-to-hand combat with Madame Hydra. Strucker was heading back down the corridor, probably about to call for reinforcements. Bucky had time to shoot out the panel next to the far door, hopefully shorting it out and blocking Strucker’s exit. Then he was face-to-face with Clint.

“Bucky, code!” Jan shouted, racing past him already with a gun in each hand.

“Three-Eight-Four-Five,” he shouted back, parrying a blow from Clint, who was wielding his bow as a staff in these close quarters. He barely registered Jan running to Sam’s cell before turning his full attention to the battle at hand.

Clint, as Bucky already knew, was quick. Even knowing this, he only barely blocked the blow coming towards his head. Bucky grabbed the staff and tugged it with his right hand while swinging with his left.

Except he didn’t swing with his left, because that arm was still not working. Instead, Clint drove in with a right hook. Bucky turned to block the blow with his torn-up shoulder and kicked with his left leg at Clint’s stomach. As Clint stumbled back, Bucky wrenched the staff out of his hands and held it up in front of him.

“Clint, snap out of it!” Bucky called. “It’s me!”

Clint shuddered and took a deep breath. But once he looked up, his gaze was unwavering as he came in again for the attack. Bucky swung the staff at Clint’s head, but Clint ducked under it with easy grace and came in close, grabbing the staff on the backswing and pulling it around Bucky’s back until they stood, Bucky’s back to Clint’s chest, in a terrible mimicry of dance.

Clint spun the staff until Bucky’s grip broke, and Bucky threw his head back in an attempt to hit Clint’s nose. Clint pulled back just enough to minimize the blow and released his grip on Bucky, who turned immediately back to face him.

“You can break this,” Bucky told him. “Don’t let them control you.”

Clint’s step faltered. Then his eyes flashed icy blue and he stepped forward again, collapsing his staff down into a baton length and driving low for Bucky’s legs. Bucky hopped over the sweep, but without the balance of his left arm he stumbled on the landing. Clint pushed his advantage with a kick that knocked Bucky to the ground.

“Clint, please!” Bucky looked up, still on his knees. His right hand dipped into his pocket and pulled out the beaten red milk cap.

Clint froze mid-swing, his baton stopping just short of Bucky’s neck as he watched the bright red cap flipping through Bucky’s fingers. He looked slowly from Bucky’s hand up his arm, shoulder, and face until they were staring into each other’s eyes. The ice in Clint’s gaze melted just a touch, and he frowned, confused. “Bucky?” he said, in a voice low and broken.

“Clint.” Bucky released the word in relief and reached up again to genty brush at Clint’s face. Before he actually touched Clint, though, there was a loud thud, and Clint’s eyes rolled back in his head before he collapsed onto Bucky’s lap.

Bucky glared up at Sam, who was lowering the gun that he must have pistol-whipped Clint with. “I had that,” he said.

“Yes, and it was very touching, but we don’t have time for the lovers’ reunion right now.” Sam gestured down to the end of the hall where Strucker was bound with long strips of what seemed to be his own shirt. Jan was in the process of stuffing a gag in his mouth. Wanda, meanwhile, had taken down Madame Hydra and was keeping her pinned to the ground with tendrils of red, which meant whatever had been suppressing her abilities must have worn off.

“We’re locked in here for now,” Sam said, “since you shot out the lock, but Strucker was able to alert the rest of the base. We’ve got to get out of here before they manage to break through the door.”

Bucky looked down the hall at the only door. “How many men do we want to bet are already waiting for us that direction?”

Sam stood from where he’d finished tying up Madame Hydra, allowing Wanda to release her. As a last step, Sam slid the ring from her finger and stuffed it in his pocket. “We could try to fight our way through or use one of these two as hostages.” He gestured at Strucker and Madame Hydra, the only two enemies who weren’t either dead or unconscious.

“You fools,” Madame Hydra spat. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with here.”

“Yeah, all right, that’s enough from you.” Sam ripped off another piece of fabric from her long tunic and shoved it in her mouth.

“Do we know where we are in the ship?” Wanda asked. “I could try to make an opening for us, if we knew which direction to go.”

“They were feeding us through the back of our cells,” Sam said. “There has to be a hallway at least on the other side.”

Wanda stepped forward, hands already forming a ball of energy. “Stand back.” She stood at the edge of the cell and thrust forward, blasting a hole in the rear of the cell. One startled guard went for their gun, but Sam shot them before they could draw.

“We need to go. Now,” Sam said.

“Right.” Bucky took a deep breath and looked down at Clint, who was starting to stir. Which was a good sign, since it meant Sam probably hadn’t hit him hard enough to give him a concussion. Thinking back on the days without food or sleep, not to mention his dead arm, Bucky looked around at his friends. “I need someone else to carry him.”

“I got it.” Jan came bounding down the hall. Bucky helped to get Clint up so Jan could lift him in a fireman’s carry. With the foot of height difference between them, it was a little comical to see, but she stood firm without any sign of strain. “Let’s go.”

Wanda led the way, with Sam right behind. Bucky followed Jan, keeping a worried eye on the two villains still bound on the ground. He debated shooting them now, but figured that if the guards did break through the door they’d have to stop and take time to untie those two fools before giving chase.

Stepping through the hole, he found his teammates already running for a door at the opposite end of the hall from the direction they’d been brought in. He followed, hugging his arm in to his chest. “Now what?” he asked, catching up to everyone as Sam fiddled with the control panel.

“We hope there’s conveniently placed signs?” Jan offered. She shifted in a way that might have been a shrug were she not carrying 210 pounds or so of Clint.

As the door slid open, alarms began to blare around them. Sam stepped back from the controls with his hands up. “Shit,” he said. “Looks like the cat’s out of the bag.”

“Stay behind me,” Wanda said. She stepped into the hall and looked both directions before turning right. Everyone else followed close behind, but no guards swarmed to their location from any direction. They made it down the long corridor with relative ease before reaching another set of doors.

“Hold,” Bucky said, stepping up to the doorway. He peered through the small window set at eye level. On the other side of the door, small groups of guards were running in the opposite direction, guns at the ready.

“Sam, switch off with me,” Jan said. She lowered Clint down feet-first to the ground, where he wavered unsteadily on his feet for a moment before Sam swooped in and picked him up. Jan came up to the door with Bucky and went up on tiptoes to look through the window. “Either they’re very stupid…” she began.

“Or they’re not coming for us,” Bucky surmised. He turned to the group. “Looks like we might have some company.”

Jan lit up with a huge smile. “I think Tony got my message!”

“Message?” Sam said. “When did you have time to drop Tony a message?”

“It’s been going since we were kidnapped” Jan replied. “I set it up when Clint cut off our link to SHIELD. As long as I went back to reset the timer once a day, nothing was sent. But once I wasn’t there to turn it off, the SOS would’ve started. It’s a message Tony and I agreed on, something to track a location and to let people know something was wrong.”

“And you only thought to mention this now?” Wanda asked with a scowl.

Jan humphed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well we’ve been a little busy recently. And I’m glad I didn’t before, since otherwise Clint would’ve known and could have stopped it.”

“You’re saying that Tony’s the reason everyone is running around not chasing us?” Sam asked.

“Him and the rest of the team, I’d wager. Scott, Natasha, Carol--”

“Steve,” Bucky and Sam both said. They locked eyes for a moment. “We’d better get to them,” Sam said. “Before he does anything stupid.”

“Anything _more_ stupid,” Bucky amended. “They just attacked an enemy base for us.”

“Time to follow the guards, then,” Wanda said. She reached out and pulled the door open with her ability, and they all rushed through, following the crowd as quietly as possible. Pretty soon, they were back at the landing bay looking at their old ship.

Clint began at that moment to groan and shift more on Sam’s back. Sam lowered him gently, though he quickly slapped a hand over Clint’s mouth.

Bucky stepped up behind Clint and placed a hand on his back. “Clint, it’s okay. You’re right here, with us. Look at me, sweetheart.” He waited until Clint’s eyes - bleary and sleep-deprived and oh-so-beautifully gray - met his own. “There you are. What do you remember?”

“Bucky?” Clint croaked. “Oh god, Buck, you have to--you need to run--” He began frantically pushing at Bucky’s arm, stumbling in the process.

“Woah, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m okay. Look, look at me. Both of us are okay now.” He grabbed Clint and held him in a tight hug. “We gotta stay quiet, though. Steve and Nat are here to rescue us, but we still have to get to them.”

Clint nodded against Bucky’s neck. “Okay,” he said. He shuddered and pushed himself up. “What’s the plan?”

“He’s good?” Sam asked Bucky.

Bucky glared at him. “You heard him same as me. We’re good.”

“No one is moving,” Wanda said. “Why are they all waiting?”

Jan peered around her shoulder into the hangar. She gasped. “It’s a trap! They’re waiting until everyone lands and comes looking for us, then they’ll rush the ship.”

“So what do we do? We’ll never convince them to just turn around and leave without us, even if we could find a way to contact them,” Sam said.

“We must get out to them,” Wanda said. “If we can get to the ship, we can fly out to meet them.”

“Great plan, but how do we aboard the ship and out the hangar without being stopped?” Sam asked.

“Me.” Everyone turned to face Clint, who forced himself to stand on his own instead of leaning against Bucky. “I’ll escort you to the ship and order them to let us out.”

“Not alone you won’t.” Bucky reached over and interlaced his fingers with Clint’s. “As far as these people know, they think I got hit with the soul stone same as you.”

“Yeah but no one’s going to believe you’re both under any sort of control if you’re making eyes like that at each other.” Sam switched grips on his gun to offer it to Clint. “Come on, soldiers. The longer we wait the more chance we get caught.”

Bucky accepted the gun Jan offered after disentangling his fingers from Clint’s. He let Clint step up to lead the group in and took up the rear guard. He checked to make sure the safety was on before pointing it at Sam as he followed him into the hangar.

All eyes were on them the moment they entered. One of the goons stepped up to Clint, who gestured that everyone else continue on toward the ship. Jan, Sam, and Wanda kept their heads down as Bucky prodded them all with the gun.

“What’s this, then?” the head goon asked.

“We’re loading them up as bait,” Clint responded, completely monotone. “Madame Hydra’s orders.”

“Oh yeah? How come I didn’t hear anything about it?”

“You’d need to ask Madame Hydra.”

Sam ran for the cockpit as soon as he was in the ship, and Jan went for the engine room. Wanda stayed near the entrance, just out of sight. Bucky walked back out onto the ramp. He kept his hand on the gun. “Prisoners secure.”

The goon looked over at him with a squint. “That was fast.” He reached for his ear. “This is Bravo-59, requesting clearance on Deck C. Repeat, Bravo-59 on Deck C. We have prisoners set for departure.”

Bucky held his breath. Their gambit was up, and Clint was still on the platform. Worse, the hangar doors were still closed, so the others still couldn’t leave.

He saw the decision Clint would make before there was time for anything other than a tightening of shoulders. Then he was running down the ramp as Clint whipped the gun up into the goon’s face. Bucky let off a spray of shots at the incoming guards but kept his eyes on Clint, who had knocked the head goon onto his back and was bolting for the control panel.

Bucky aimed at a group of guards closing in on Clint and saw another swarm in his peripheral vision. The ones attacking him, though, were swept away in a wave of red and flung into the group behind him. Bucky let Wanda do her thing and kept running after Clint as the ship booted up behind him.

Clint reached the controls and started frantically pushing buttons. Bucky continued to shoot at anyone who came near him as he ran up to Clint’s side.

“Come on, come on,” Clint said. He thrust a lever upward and there was a loud shuddering noise as the hangar doors began to open. “Yes!” Then he looked up at the swarm of goons between them and the ship. “Aww, wait, no…”

“Worse than that,” Bucky reminded him. “If we leave here, they’ll just close the doors again.” He shot another goon trying to get in too close.

“Fuck. Then we’ll have to jam it.”

“Here.” Bucky reached up under his shirt and pulled out a piece of plating from his arm. He waved it in front of Clint. “Apparently the soul stone doesn’t work through metal.” He took the piece and jammed it into the track under the lever. Then he hammered it in with the butt of his gun. “There. One problem down.”

“A thousand more to go…”

Behind the goons, the ship rose up smoothly. Then it began to turn so that it was facing the goons. Bucky’s eyes went wide, and he grabbed Clint. “Drop!” he shouted, pulling him down behind the console just as the ship guns went off.

It took only a few seconds for the sound of shooting to drop. When Bucky and Clint stood, the goons were all down, though Bucky could hear more coming down the hall.

“Time to go!” He grabbed Clint and shoved him toward the ship. They ran full pelt to where Wanda stood, her arm outstretched as she clung to the railing of the ramp.

A cluster of shots sounded, and Bucky spun to take out the group of guards brave enough to still be shooting. He distantly heard Clint shooting next to him. They both kept running and leapt for Wanda amidst the firing guns behind them.

“Go, go!” Bucky shouted to no one in particular, since Sam wouldn’t be able to hear him all the way up in the cockpit. The message seemed to have been received anyway, since the ramp lifted and the ship turned toward the open hangar door.

The ship floated out the entrance more than it roared, but it was enough to get them off the base. And it wasn’t like they needed to go that far. Through one of the high windows of the cargo bay, Bucky was just able to spot a large and ostentatious ship currently having a shoot-out with the base.

“That monstrosity must be Stark’s,” Bucky said. “Which means Jan was right. We made it. Holy fuck, we made it.” He dropped with a deep sigh next to Clint, who was still lying on the ramp. “Clint. Clint, did you hear that? We made it! Clint?”

He reached out to shake Clint, but his hand came back bloody. With disbelieving eyes, he watched his boyfriend bleeding out on the floor.


	11. Chapter 11

_Maybe_ , Bucky thought to himself, _this is just the natural next stage of my hallucinations. The torture never stopped, and I managed to hallucinate everything that happened since I woke up._ He stared down at his blood-covered hand.

Someone was shouting at him. He looked up in a daze at Jan and Wanda, who were both holding onto Clint. Jan was saying something. He focused on her mouth to try to read the words.

“Get up,” she said. “We need to get him to the medbay.”

Bucky’s body obeyed the order before his mind fully processed it. He moved ahead of the group in order to clear a route and open doors. Once they reached the medbay, he stood to the side as the women placed Clint on Wanda’s operating table.

Wanda immediately moved to work, grabbing a large bandage to staunch the wound while she used her ability to grab tools. Jan, meanwhile, took Bucky by the elbow and led him out the door.

“We need to stay out of her way,” she explained. “Go wash up. I’m going to see if I can radio Tony and let him know what’s going on.” She led him to the bathroom door before running down the hall toward the cockpit.

Bucky frowned down at his hand, which he noticed now was shaking. With a concentrated effort, he forced it to stop. _Freak out later,_ he told himself. _It’s not later yet._ He opened the door and stepped inside.

He barely recognized the man in the mirror. His hair was matted and greasy, his beard grown to look shaggy. He was streaked with dirt and dried blood, and his clothes were stained with sweat. His left arm hung at his side, the upper part of it open to the elements with wires still hanging out. He was pale and expressionless, a ghost of himself.

He turned on the water, leaving a bloodstain on the handle. Navigating the soap was a little difficult, but he placed a washrag in the sink to wipe off against as he went and managed to scrub off most of the blood. He used the same rag to turn off the water and wipe down the handle, then dropped it into the trash.

Bucky opened the door to the hallway just as Sam came running toward the medbay. Bucky watched him and took a step to follow before remembering that he’d just be in the way in the tiny room. He needed to let those who were trained do their jobs.

Instead, he turned toward the cockpit. He wandered in to find Jan on her hands and knees under the console.

“Don’t hit your head,” he told her before settling into the copilot’s seat. Through the window he could see the other team’s ship. They no longer seemed to be firing at anything, so maybe the battle was over?

Jan came out covered in dust. She flopped into the pilot’s seat with a heavy sigh before reaching for the large headset on the dash. “Wasp to Iron Man,” she said. “Come in Iron Man.”

Bucky couldn’t hear any response, but he knew when someone answered when Jan went from chewing on her bottom lip to punching the air in victory. “Pietro! Oh man, it is so good to hear you! Yes, yes she’s-- Yes, Pietro, she is on board, and she is okay. We’re all a little shaken, except Clint, who is hurt bad. Wanda’s trying to save him, but we need some help. Can you get--? Aaand he’s gone.”

“You actually expected Pietro to stick around to the end of a conversation?” Bucky snorted.

“A little optimistic of me, I kno-oh! Tony! Hey, you got here quick….Listen, much as I’d love to catch up, Clint’s hurt, and we need to get him some support. Sam’s supporting Wanda in medical, so we don’t have any experienced pilots right now, just me and a one-armed Winter boy.”

“Winter boy?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

She mouthed back at him Long story before responding to Tony. “What do you mean you haven’t invented tractor beams yet? Yeah, fine, match speed, docking port, whatever. Just make it snappy! And try not to jostle anything too much while the surgery is going on.”

Jan pulled away the headphones but kept them around her neck. “Help is on the way. And while we’re waiting on them, let’s take a look at your arm.”

Bucky stared down at his dead arm, with its missing plates and mangled cords. He sighed. “I think it might be a goner,” he said. “Even if the first cut was clean enough to repair, I think I ended up tearing at it while I was...in the darkness.”

She hummed sympathetically. “Well let’s see what we can do anyway. Is it okay if I take a look around? I won’t try to fix anything until I can see what’s in there.”

He nodded and turned away while she went to work. Watching people dig into one of his limbs was still a little disconcerting, even after all this time.

His mind began to drift as he waited. They were waiting for so many things. For the other ship to attach, for Wanda to fix Clint, for them to find out what had happened...and he couldn’t help with any of it. It was a strange feeling, being stuck on the sidelines like this. He hadn’t felt this way since he was back with Hydra the first time. But now he couldn’t even offer to give blood, since he and Clint weren’t compatible donors anyway. Despite his worried thoughts, though, his eyes began to drift shut as Jan continued to work.

“Yeah, you really did a number in here. I think I can sort out the wires, given enough time, but I think you might have ripped out a power cell. You’ll need to wait until we can get back to base to install a new one, or hope Tony has something on board. Until then, I can bind this up against you so it doesn’t hang.”

Bucky nodded. “That’ll be fine. Thanks, Jan.”

“You’re welcome. Give me just a moment here…” She pulled a long sash out of one of her pockets and began to drape it over Bucky’s opposite shoulder to create a sling. “Thank goodness I always carry this on me for emergencies.”

“What other emergencies involve you needing to have a sash handy?” Bucky asked.

“All sorts of things, really. Fashion emergencies, needing to create an award for someone to trick them into attending a fancy dinner that’s really an ambush. Works well as a sling, too, if I do say so myself.” She pulled the knot taut and tucked Bucky’s left arm inside. “There you go. How does that feel?”

He stared up at her. “Well, seeing as I can’t feel anything, let’s go with fine.”

“I’ll take it. Now.” She stood and began to gather her tools. “I’m going to go clear a spot where Tony can attach whatever thing he’s got to the ship.”

“I can help,” Bucky said, struggling to his feet.

She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Stay,” she said gently. “You’ve been through a lot. You could use the rest.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she was right. The adrenaline carrying him through the fight had well and truly worn off, and as much as he wanted to be right there for anything that would help Clint, the days of torture and captivity were weighing on him heavily. He slumped back in the seat and let his eyes slip closed for a moment.

 

* * *

 

When Bucky woke, Steve was sitting across from him in the pilot’s seat.

Bucky grunted and rolled the kinks out of his neck. “Who let you in?” he asked.

Steve grinned. “Good to see you, too, Bucky.” He stood and came over for an awkward hug, bending over to wrap his arms around Bucky’s neck. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Can say the same for you.” Bucky wrapped his good arm around Steve as best he could. “Thanks for coming for us.”

“Like anyone was going to stop us.” Steve stepped back from the hug and held out his arm. “Clint’s out of surgery. He’s unconscious, but Wanda thinks he’ll pull through. Want to go see him?”

Bucky looked up at Steve a little sheepishly but gratefully took his arm. “So who told you?” he asked.

“Sam.” Steve pulled Bucky to his feet and turned to open the door. Then Jan told me again when I said I was coming in here. Wanda gave me a death glare.”

Bucky followed Steve down the hall. “I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret from you. Well, not you specifically. We weren’t really telling anyone. I mean, before this trip, it was mostly just a couple nights here and there when we were back on base.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me, Buck. I’m not going to grill you. Just like you didn’t need to ask questions when you found out about me and Sam.”

“Oh I asked questions,” Bucky says. “Just not from you. I know you, and I figured what you saw in him. I went and asked what he saw in you.”

Steve snorted. “Gee, way to make a guy feel good.”

“Jerk.” Bucky jostled Steve’s shoulder with his own. “Besides, he passed, didn’t he?”

“Hmm. Talked enough about my big beautiful eyes and my courage and honor to make you believe him?”

“Nope. I think the actual phrase he used was ‘he’s too damn brave and stupid for his own good, and someday he’s gonna get in a fight he can’t win. I’m gonna be there to make sure he does.’”

“And that was what you were looking for?”

“Honestly I just wanted to make sure he knew what an idiot you are. And he seemed capable of bailing you out.”

They reached the medbay, and Steve opened the door and stuck his head in. “Mind if we come in?” he asked Wanda, who was hovering over Clint with her fingers splayed.

“He is resting,” she said, dropping her hands at her sides. “But if you are quiet you may wait until he wakes up. He is healing well. It should only be a few hours.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said. “For saving him.”

“Of course.”

Steve clapped a hand on her shoulder. “You should get some rest, too. Pietro has been busy making sure your room is ready.”

She smiled up at him. “Thank you, Captain. Please call me if there is a change.” She left, closing the door behind her.

Steve leaned up against the wall while Bucky stood next to the bed, gently taking Clint’s hand between his own. He watched the slow rise and fall of Clint’s chest.

“I didn’t need someone to bail me out,” Steve said. “I still don’t. That’s where you and I went wrong.”

“I like helping people,” Bucky said. “And you needed it.”

“I didn’t. But you needed someone to help. That’s why I’m not realy that surprised.” Steve looked pointedly at Clint, covered in bandages and lying unconscious in the bed.

“That’s not why. We understand each other. We don’t judge each other, and he helps pull me out of my head when I need it. I pull him out of his.”

“I’m not saying that’s the whole reason. But it works for you. He needed someone to take care of him, and you wanted someone to take care of. You complement each other.”

Bucky shot him a look. “You’re sounding awful poetic.”

Steve grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Sam’s been helping me talk through things. I figured out some things. About you and me, about me and Sam. It’s been good.”

“Good for you.” And Bucky truly meant it. Steve was his best friend, and it was about time he learned how to handle his plethora of emotions instead of just masking them all with righteous fury. “Looks like Sam really has been good for you.”

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “I always hoped you could find someone who’d do the same for you. Clint’s a good man. I think you could do a lot for each other.”

“Is that your weird way of giving your blessing?”

“It’s my way of saying that I’m happy for you. And at least I’m telling you with actual words, because you know Natasha isn’t going to be as kind.”

Bucky laughed, loud at first before tucking his head down and stifling the noise. “That was amazing, and you know it.”

“Most people don’t walk up to their friends, give them a murder glare and a very large knife, and walk away without saying anything. That’s not how you bless a marriage, I don’t care where you’re from.”

“She said it was one of her favorite knives. It was very important to her, just like both of you.”

“I didn’t sleep for a week because I was sure she was going to murder me.”

“She baked you cookies later!”

“A second murder attempt. You’ve tasted Natasha’s cooking.”

Bucky grimaced. “Yeah, all right, not great. Clint probably should’ve told her to buy some cookies instead of making them to hand to you.”

“ _Clint_ tried to murder me with cookies?”

“He suggested the cookies, anyway. Said that while he was always very excited by the sight of a good knife, not everyone felt the same way, and you might appreciate some nice baked goods instead.”

Steve managed a small smile. “I guess it’s the thought that counts. But if you have any say in the matter, please never let Natasha bake again.”

Bucky grinned back. “I’ll see what I can manage.”

A gentle knock on the door announced Natasha, who stepped in gracefully and went immediately to the other side of Clint’s bed. She nodded once at Steve and Bucky before running her hand gently down Clint’s face.

“Were your ears burning?” Steve asked.

“I’ve been listening for five minutes, but it didn’t seem appropriate to enter while you were still talking about me,” Natasha responded. She looked up at Steve. “You told me you liked the cookies.”

“Uh, heh.”

“Stevie, lying to your friends?” Bucky shook his head. “What will we do with you?”

“Well hold up now, I said I appreciated them, which is a slightly different thing. And I did definitely appreciate the gesture. It was very thoughtful. Not that the knife wasn’t, also. It was all very nice.”

Natasha looked at Bucky and raised one eyebrow. “Does he always get this way when he feels uncomfortable?”

“For as long as I’ve known him, anyway.”

“I do not, I don’t--”

Sam poked his head in the door and looked at the full room. He saw Steve turning red as a cherry in the corner and grinned. “Hey guys. Looks like you guys are having a real party in here. Hate to break it up, but Steve, can I see you over here for a minute?”

Steve huffed but walked over to Sam, who grabbed him behind the neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss. They murmured together for a moment, then Steve clapped Bucky one more time on the shoulder and followed Sam out.

“I think I understand, now,” Natasha began, “why you went for the metal arm. It’s probably the only thing that can stand up to being grabbed that much.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely got a pretty heavy touch,” Bucky admitted. “It’s all right, though. He’s really perfected the art of the comforting pat, when he’s putting in the effort.”

She hummed and looked back down at Clint. “I’m glad he has you now,” she said. “I can only do so much to look after him. It is good that he’ll have you watching his back.”

Bucky watched as she ran her fingers through Clint’s hair. He took a deep breath before asking, “You knew, didn’t you? That something was happening between us.”

She tilted her head to the side but didn’t look up at him. “I suspected. I read it in the way you looked at each other, how when you entered the room you looked for each other and would immediately move relative to where the other was. That sort of awareness can come between great enemies, great friends, or great lovers. I suspected you would be the latter.”

“And do you have any suspicions about the future now?”

“I suspect…” Natasha ran her fingers across Clint’s cheek one more time. “I suspect that he will be waking up soon, and that he will want to see you.” She came around the bed and leaned in to give Bucky a kiss on the cheek. “Take care of him. Remember, it’s not your fault.”

Before he could ask what she meant by that, she had left. Just a few seconds later, Clint was groaning and blinking his eyes open.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Bucky leaned over him and kept a cup of water handy. “How do you feel?”

“A little like I got shot in the back,” Clint replied. He shuffled around and grimaced. “How bad was it?”

“I didn’t ask. Wanda rushed you in here pretty quickly, though. Seemed to think it was urgent.”

“Ugh.” Clint’s head flopped back onto the pillow. “How many near death experiences is that for me? Am I running up against my limit yet?”

“I think you’re at seven now, depending on how you count things. I’m betting you’re nowhere near your limit, though. If I’ve learned anything it’s that you can turn just about any mission into a near-death experience.”

Clint’s face fell. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess I’m pretty much just a giant screw-up.”

“No, that’s not what I meant--”

“But it’s true.” Clint turned away. “I nearly killed you all, and just because I was too weak--”

“Shut up. You know that’s not how it works.”

“But if I could have fought it--”

“This is not your fault,” Bucky said firmly. “None of it. You were used and discarded, and it is not your fault what happened while you were brainwashed. Just like it wasn’t my fault when I was brainwashed. In fact, I shouldn’t have let you go off alone, I should’ve been there to take care of you and noticed when something was wrong. I…” Natasha’s words came back to him. “Damn. She really does see the future.”

“Uh...what?” Clint asked. “Did I hit my head too? Or did that subject change not make sense anyway?”

“No, it’s just...Natasha was in here to check on you. And the last thing she said as she left was that it wasn’t my fault. And she’s right. It wasn’t my fault or yours or anyone else’s, except fucking Hydra.”

Clint took a deep, shuddering breath, then winced at the pain that caused his ribs. “Okay. Well, if it was Hydra, what are we going to do to get back at them?”

“Well, first of all, I actually doubt that we,” Bucky gestured between the two of them, “are going to do much of anything. With how badly you’re injured and with my arm being out of commission, we may have to sit this one out.”

“Oh, futz, your arm!” Clint reached for the sling. “I’m so sorry, I--”

“Hey. Not your fault, remember?” Bucky smiled softly. “It’s okay. I’m actually kind of looking forward to just sitting with you on a couch somewhere and making the others do the heavy lifting. With the other team here, I think we’ll actually get the chance to take a break.”

“Right, you said Natasha was here. So are we like, inside Tony’s ship, or are they all just teleporting over, or what?”

“I’m pretty sure Tony just attached the two ships together, actually.”

“Ugh, lame. He’s a bad Trekkie.” Clint yawned in the middle of the last word.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to tell him that when you wake up. Come on, drink this glass of water first and then we’ll go to sleep.”

“We?” Clint asked, though he accepted the water Bucky held out. “You’re gonna leave me?”

“No, you’re going to shove over in this bed and share with me. Now scoot.”

“How dare you, shoving at an invalid. I’ll have you know that I am a war veteran.”

“So am I, pal, and I’m pulling rank. Make room. I’m coming in.”

Clint only huffed a little as he scooted over and finished off his water, but he was grinning the whole time. As soon as there was enough room, Bucky laid down on the edge of the bed and wrapped his good arm around Clint’s waist, pulling him in close. He tucked his nose against Clint’s neck.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” he whispered.

“Me too,” Clint whispered back. “I love you.”

Bucky hummed and pressed a kiss to Clint’s neck. He was asleep in seconds.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for coming with me on this journey. I have appreciated every single comment and kudos, and you have all made this writing process so very fulfilling for me.
> 
> Additional thanks once again to fuckyeahdeafandasexual, who prompted me to actually get to writing, and to maesonc for the artwork that graces the start and end of this story.
> 
> And now, on to the grand finale!

Bucky returned slowly and grudgingly to consciousness. He kept his nose buried in the folds of Clint’s hospital gown and tightened his grip on the hand folded in his own. He turned a murderous glare at the person who dared to disturb his slumber.

“Easy, _ubivayushchiy kotyonok_. I’m not here to steal your toy.” Natasha hopped up onto the counter and perched there, staring at Bucky and Clint. She looked carefully at the way they were intertwined. Seeing their linked hands, she raised an eyebrow and looked up to Bucky.

He held on all the tighter and tucked in closer. A memory drifted up to him, reaching him with feather-gentleness that was uncommon with most of the memories he had. With a growing smile, he looked up at Clint’s bruised and beaten face. “He said he loved me.”

“Silly man.” Natasha hopped down and came up to the bed. She ran her fingers gently across Clint’s face. “He’s been telling you that for ages. Just as you have been telling him.”

It seemed pointless to mention that she was the only one Bucky knew who could read people’s faces and movements with that level of eerie accuracy. He settled instead for watching her caress Clint’s face. Her hand drifted back to his ears, and she grimaced as she deftly pulled something away.

“Have these been in the whole time?” she asked, pulling away Clint’s hearing aid. She reached for the other one.

Clint groaned and pulled away from her touch. His free hand came up and he rubbed at the ear Natasha had just freed while grimacing. “Ow…”

“Oh, shit.” Bucky disentangled his hand in order to reach for the aids Natasha was holding out. “He must’ve been wearing them since...maybe since he got, uh, triggered.” Which was...weeks ago. How the fuck was he not dying of the pain? “We should have Wanda check him for an ear infection.”

Natasha hummed in affirmation. Clint, meanwhile, opened his eyes and stared up at Natasha with big puppy eyes. “Why…?” he whined.

“You left your aids in too long,” Natasha said while signing. “They’ll need time to heal.”

Clint pouted but didn’t argue. He continued rubbing at his ear with one hand while the other came to rest gently on Bucky’s head. He began to card his fingers through Bucky’s hair, almost absent-mindedly. Bucky closed his eyes and relaxed into the touch.

“I screwed up, Tash.” Clint’s voice was small and weak. “I got cocky. I let myself get drawn away, looking at stupid _jewelry_ , and then suddenly I was tying up my friends and about to kill everyone.”

“No one blames you, Clint.” Natasha spoke probably entirely for Bucky’s benefit, since she’d still need to be signing to speak to Clint.

“I do. I was stupid, and--”

“Which part was your fault, exactly?” Natasha’s words turned harsh. “The part where half a year ago your entire team got kidnapped and you were given underlyiing programming? Where they overrode your mind and forced you to act against your will?”

“I shouldn’t have gotten separated from Sam. And I should’ve broken out of it sooner.”

Bucky opened his eyes and tilted his head up to look at Clint with sad eyes. “I thought we weren’t doing that anymore.” He echoed Clint’s words back at him, hoping that he’d remember even across the weeks and trials they’d been through. He spotted Natasha signing it for him, too.

Clint’s eyes watered a litle and his hand moved from Bucky’s hair down to wrap tightly around his shoulders. He gave a sharp, jerky nod. “Still feels like my fault,” he grumbled.

Bucky lapsed into silence, settling for just wrapping his arm more tightly around Clint’s waist. Natasha hummed gently and patted Clint’s face again. They knew what it was like to be a weapon in someone else’s hands, and they all knew the long road of recovery that came along with it. Guilt had a tendency to linger, especially for Clint. All Bucky could do was walk with him along the road, just as Clint had done for him.

Natasha lingered a moment longer before pressing a kiss to Clint’s head. She took the hearing aids from Bucky’s hand and placed them on a nearby table before leaving. She gave Bucky a long, meaningful look as she left, though he wasn’t exactly sure what meaning it was, exactly.

Clint sighed. “That was her ‘talk to him’ face. It’s okay. I get it. I know this has been a lot, and I’ve probably scared you off. You don’t have to stay just because I’m hurt. I’m kind of always a mess, so--”

Bucky cut him off with a kiss just so he could stop listening to Clint degrading himself. He sat back carefully, still busy counterbalancing against his dead arm. He signed as best he could with his right, speaking clearly and watching Clint’s face to make sure he understood.

“I’m not here because I feel sorry for you,” he said. “I love you. Okay? And I think I’ve loved you for a while. I should have told you before.”

Clint’s eyes went from morose to shocked to hopeful, and he stared at Bucky with longing eyes. “You love me?”

“Yes,” Bucky signed firmly. “I love you, and I...I am tired of pretending I don’t. Clint, will you be my boyfriend?”

Clint’s face split with a wide smile, contrasting with the tears that had been threatening to cascade down his face for various reasons since he woke up. “I love you, too,” he said.

“I know,” Bucky replied. He thought back to the months they’d spent together, sneaking around whenever they got the chance and going out of their way to see each other. He thought of how worried he got every time Clint went on a mission, and how he saw the same fear in Clint’s eyes whenever it was his turn to go. He remembered Clint’s soft gaze when they laid together, and the way he clung to his Bucky Bear every night. His glee in teasing Bucky. His sad eyes when Bucky left. He thought of the way Clint’s eyes had cleared at the sight of the red milk cap, at their sign that they were going from “Barnes and Barton” to “Bucky and Clint.” He remembered it all and smiled.

“I know,” he repeated. “You told me.”

 

* * *

 

Wanda had done an incredible job with stitching Clint back together, but it still took a few days before he was able to even be moved from the room. Once they did get the go-ahead, Steve and Carol came in to lift Clint from the medbay bed and carry him through the ship and across the connecting hall Tony had used to connect their smaller ship to his much larger one. They brought Clint up to the large command deck, where there was already a couch laid out for Clint. Bucky followed every step of the way, carefully watching to make sure they wouldn’t accidentally bump him against anything and that he wasn’t in pain.

“Okay, you are officially never allowed to make fun of Sam and me ever again,” Steve said halfway through the trip. “He is fine, and we are being as careful as possible.”

“But look, he’s in pain!”

“He’s in pain because he got shot in the back. And he’ll be happier up where everyone else is anyway.”

“Can we actually finish moving him before you two keep bickering?” Carol asked.

Finally, Clint had been safely arranged on his couch, with Bucky sitting nervously on a chair positioned next to him. Clint’s face managed to switch from being contorted in pain to a contemplative look as he gazed around the large room with its expansive window and large seats. He whistled low.

“Stark, I apologize for anything I may have said about you not being a big enough Trekkie. This place looks lifted straight from the Enterprise.”

“Why thank you, Clint. I’m glad someone appreciates my genius.” Tony was, naturally, seated in the large seat on the raised dais. This was despite him being the mechanic and not actually the captain of the ship, a role filled by Steve with Carol as first mate.

Tony’s words popped up on a small screen positioned in front of the couch. Clint read it and grinned. He still didn’t have his aids, since Natasha had been right and he’d developed a nasty ear infection that would take a while to clear up. But at least now he wouldn’t be totally without a means to communicate with those on the ship who didn’t know sign language.

“These aren’t bolted to anything,” Clint said, peering at the legs of the chairs. “How do you handle sudden gravitational shifts?”

“Nanos!” Tony chirped. “Nanobots hold it in place, making for a quick-release if necessary. But not to worry, everything is very secure unless I give the signal. And it doesn’t even need a screwdriver.”

Jan came up to lean against Tony’s chair. “Uh-huh, and where did you get the idea for nanobots, Tony?” she asked pointedly.

“Yes, yes, credit where it is due. Thank you for your inspiration.”

Carol wandered over to stand opposite Jan, leaning against the other side of Tony’s chair. She looked down at Jan with a grin. “I can understand your fascination with small things,” she said, “but what about making something really big?”

“I’ve considered it,” Jan said. She eyed Carol up and down. “We’re working on reconfiguring the particles and running some tests. You may have heard some of it from Scott.”

“He had an idea of it, but I found that he wasn’t very clear on the fundamentals.”

“Well, I’d be happy to go over it with you sometime.”

Carol smiled and turned away. “Sounds great. I’ll have to catch up with you later for that.”

In the corner, Natasha’s fingers twitched for her knife before she rolled her eyes and turned away. Bucky turned from the strange interaction to see Clint still staring at the couch legs. Or maybe he’d gone from staring down to...yup, he’d fallen asleep. Bucky lifted him back up onto the seat so he wouldn’t hurt his back from the strange position draped over the arm of the couch.

“I could probably get that arm of yours up and running again.” Tony rose from his chair and headed over to the couch. He was already wielding a wrench, though where he’d got it from Bucky had no idea. “Could probably come up with an upgrade, too, if you give me a little bit of time.”

“I’m good with this one for now,” Bucky said, “though if you have a spare power cell I’d appreciate it.”

“I can probably pull something together.” He looked over at Clint. “I’m working on designing a new pair of hearing aids, too. I made his current pair, which has an extended battery life, but I forgot to account for breathability.”

Jan called from across the room, “You’ll want to make them more durable, too. I had to take that last pair apart and tighten the wires in it. They’d all come loose and gotten greasy.”

“Well if he’d bring it in for maintenance more regularly,” Tony groused. He wandered away muttering, pulling up a screen with a design he started marking notes into. “Barnes, follow me. We may as well get you fixed up.”

Bucky looked down at Clint’s sleeping form and kissed his forehead once before following the very distracted Tony out toward the engineering bay.

If he’d thought Jan made a mess in her workshop, it was nothing compared to Tony’s space. He had half-completed projects on every spare surface, and while everything did appear to be marked and labeled in some fashion, it seemed to be in a language that only Tony understood.

Tony waved over to a bench with a small space cleared off. “It’ll just take me a moment until I find one of my spare power cells. You can sit there while you wait.”

Bucky scooted one box of parts slightly closer to the teetering pile of gears and took a seat gingerly on the bench. “None of this is going to explode on me, right?”

“Nah. I keep the dangerous stuff over on that table.” Tony pointed behind him while he continued digging around in his drawers.

“Sure that’s not where you want to put me?” Bucky responded dryly.

Tony turned back to Bucky, a power cell in hand. He sighed and leaned back against the counter. “Hey. I know I’ve said some things. In the past.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’ve done some things. In the past.”

“I know you weren’t really the one responsible.”

“Doesn’t mean the pain isn’t real. Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be upset.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “That what you tell yourself when you’re beating yourself up?”

“No. I tell myself I’m a broken wreck of a man who’s never going to get over everything that happened to me. But my friends tell me what I need to hear. That maybe I won’t get over everything, but that doesn’t mean that I’m too broken to keep going, or that I don’t have value as a person. Because they know what I need to hear, and they know I don’t always remember to tell it to myself.”

Tony came forward with the cell and gestured to the sash holding Bucky’s arm in place before he started to pull it off. “So you’re here to remind me that I have value as a person?”

“No. I’m going to remind you that it’s okay to feel things, and it’s okay to not be logical all the time. I don’t blame you for being upset.”

Tony grunted. He tapped at Bucky’s arm with the wrench and waited for a nod before digging in and pulling out a series of wires. “Steve does.”

“Steve’s an ass, and thank god he’s got Sam now otherwise he’d still be completely insufferable.”

“Steve and Sam? They’re a thing?”

Bucky blinked down at Tony. “For like...three years now. Where have you been?”

Tony shrugged. “Busy, I guess. Remind me to have Pepper send them a gift basket.”

“She already did. But I’m sure they’ll appreciate the gesture.”

“And that’s why I keep that gorgeous and wonderful woman in my life.” Tony fiddled again in Bucky’s arm and the whole thing jumped to life, leaping a few inches off Bucky’s lap. “Woah, okay, a little too much energy there. Let me turn this thing down.”

“I’ve never seen it do that before,” Bucky said, staring down at the arm. “What the hell kind of power cell is that?”

“It’s one of mine. Only the best for my friends. Probably a little more juice than your old hunk of junk is used to, but once I tune it up a little bit it should run you just fine. Better than fine, actually, since this thing is designed to run for months without needing a recharge.”

“And if you’re wrong and it fries the arm?”

“It won’t. But if something goes horribly wrong, come see me again and I’ll give you an upgrade on the whole thing. Actually, come by anyway and I’ll get you fixed up. This thing can’t be fun to walk around with. How much does this thing weigh?”

“It works just fine for me. But I’ll keep your offer in mind.” Bucky watched while Tony tinkered around a little more and made some final adjustments. He had Bucky test the arm a few times for grip strength and sensitivity, and once everything seemed good he began to close everything up again.

Bucky watched carefully as Tony hammered a few pieces of metal to shape them into spare plates to replace the ones Bucky had lost. As Tony approached again to finish repairs, Bucky took a deep breath. “Tony,” he started, “I’m sorry I killed your parents.”

Tony jerked a bit in his movement, then let out a loud sigh. “Don’t be.” He lined up the final plate. “I’m sorry I ever blamed you for it.”

Bucky waited until the loud noise of the screws being twisted into place had died down before he gave Tony a sad smile. “Don’t be.”

 

* * *

 

When they returned to the command center, Clint was awake and cradling a mug of coffee to his chest. Bucky walked over to him and kissed him again before plopping down into the chair.

“You supposed to be having coffee while you’re healing?” he asked. “I hear caffeine is bad for you.” He reached for the cup.

“Nooo…” Clint pulled the cup in closer to his chest. “Steve said it was okay. Didn’t you, Steve?”

They both looked over to where Tony was standing slack-jawed next to Steve and Carol. Steve was smirking, and he nodded at Bucky. “One cup won’t do him any harm,” Steve said with a wink. As Clint turned to stick out his tongue at Bucky, Steve mouthed the word “Decaf” across the room. Bucky grinned again and leaned in to kiss his boyfriend.

That’s right. His boyfriend. Who he could kiss in public now.

“Don’t tell me that one has also been going on for three years,” Tony said loudly. “Who even thought that that was a good plan, anyway?”

Bucky didn’t even bother to look up while he flipped Tony off. With the left arm. Take that, Stark. Instead, he kept his eyes on Clint, checking him over to make sure he wasn’t in any more pain and trying to hide it. “More painkillers?” he signed.

Clint shook his head. “Wanda is taking care of me. When Pietro’s not bothering me, anyway. He is very annoying. Did you know he nearly spilled my coffee when he came in to give me a hug?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Oh yes,” he said. “Practically the worst.”

“Exactly!”

Jan popped her head around the corner and looked into the room. “Hey guys. Sam and Pietro tell me that we’re in good range from the Hydra base now, and I thought you might all want to watch.”

They all blinked at her for a moment before Carol asked, “Watch what, exactly?”

“Spin the ship around and you’ll find out!”

Carol sat down in one of the large commander chairs and hit a few commands on the panel in front of her. The ship spun slowly around until a small base came into view. Or at least, it looked small from here. Which didn’t quite feel right, remembering the hell that the place had put them all through.

“Okay, then on my mark--” Jan began.

“Hold up,” Bucky said. “Steve, you should call everyone else in. They’re all going to want to see this.” He reached his left arm to wrap around Clint’s shoulders while Steve gave the call.

Sam came in and stood next to Steve, and Natasha came up silently to Clint’s other side. Pietro and Wanda darted in together, and Scott seemed to come from the literal floorboards. Based on his bedhead, he’d actually just been sleeping there.

“Greetings, greetings,” Jan said. “We are all gathered here together--”

“Why are we still waiting?” Clint seemed like he might be trying to whisper, but it came out loud and interrupted Jan’s speech.

“Fine, Mr. Impatient. Without the fanfare, then.” Jan pulled out her communicator and tapped a few buttons. In the distance and without a sound, (because, you know, space) the base exploded.

They sat in silence for a moment, broken when Clint said a small, surprised “Oh.”

“Yeah, those cells were really poorly watched,” Jan said. “Also, never underestimate what you can manage to put together with a few emergency swatches of fabric, some silverware, and a couple nanoparticles.”

“Hot damn,” Carol said. “Maybe I underestimated nanoparticles.”

“So, does that mean that Hydra’s done?” Clint asked.

“Maybe for now.” Bucky squeezed Clint’s hand before continuing his signing. “But that doesn’t mean there’s not going to be more bad guys whose ass need kicking.”

Clint grinned at the thought. “Maybe we could kick their ass together.”

“Okay, seriously, how long has this been going on? And how has no one told them how annoying they’re being?”

“We’ve told them,” Sam said with a sigh. “It doesn’t seem to do any good.”

“Not them.” Everyone turned to look where Tony was pointing at Carol and Jan. Carol had pinned Jan up against the wall and was making out loudly with her. “Those two.”

Natasha walked over, hand on her belt. She coughed loudly until the two separated. “I’m told a knife is in poor taste,” she said, pulling out a baton. “Here.” She nodded once at each of them before walking away.

Clint, watching the whole exchange, burst out in loud laughter until he was clutching himself for the pain. Bucky leaned in to hold him, laughing himself.

They were okay. Not completely, and not forever. But for right now, in this moment, they were all okay. Looking down at the beautiful, incredible man in his arms, Bucky gave himself permission to believe that this time it might even last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that's a quote from "Vanilla Twilight" by Owl City that I stole for my title and the text on the final image. Because I'm a giant sap and also still stuck in 2009. The full lyric goes, "The silence isn't so bad 'til I look at my hands and feel sad, 'cause the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly."
> 
> My goal for Natasha's nickname for Bucky is "murder kitten," but Russian diminutives are hard so just...pretend with me.
> 
> Also, the new ship name is "Van Danvers" and you are all encouraged to jump on board.
> 
> Thank you all again for joining me on this journey. We never would have made it without you.


End file.
